To this day, if I tell a corny joke, my wife Jan will say one word that says so much: "Ernie."
My father, who died in 1991, enjoyed what most would describe as cornball jokes or sayings.
"You've got a face like a can of worms" was among his favorites. And for good measure, he would add the adjective "frozen."
Or the authors of books: "I.P. Freely," or "Hoo Flung Dung?"
My parents separated years before he passed, when I was still growing up. Every Saturday, he would come to the house, chat with my mother about this and that, often practical matters involving money, and he would help support us.
He used to love to take us out to fancy restaurants. I remember my wife Jan's first experience with this at the Springside Inn, in Auburn, N.Y. He fancied himself a bit of a gourmet, ordering exotic appetizers like escargots, or Dewar's Scotch with a twist.
In his day, he was quite a good athlete, and was handy with tools. Like many in our neighborhood, he built a recreation room in the basement, complete with a bar and a three-dimensional illuminated case of Utica Club beer, that rotated electrically from the ceiling.
He was a WW II veteran, a staff sergeant in Communications and fought at Saipan and Okinawa in the Pacific Theater. Years later, he would teach me Japanese words like "Banzai."
We played games of catch in the backyard quite often. He would back up to the back of the house, and I would be farther out in the backyard. More than once, I threw a wild pitch past him and broke yet another basement window.
When I became a father, I looked forward to playing the role that he did.
He began balding in his late 30's or early 40's. But I was never clear when, and being a little nervous about inheriting the trait, I would ask him when the hair loss began.
Without hesitation, he would pick the same age that I happened to be when I asked. Happy Father's Day, Dad. I miss you.
