My father proudly carried faded pictures in his wallet of his kids and grand kids. He was married seven times. His swagger was reminiscent of Clark Gable and his parenting that of a Disneyland Dad. He manufactured mufflers and glass packs for race cars and low riders. I don't ever recall pissing him off. I learned to always be on my best behavior around him. I just wanted to be with him, near him. I don't ever remember hearing him complain or talk negatively about anyone including my mom. He loved living, woman, drinking, traveling, gambling, driving, his business, his kids, his pets, fishing, hunting, pool, baseball, the horse races and singing a ballad or two. "Martha" was his standard song after a few drinks. Compadre Leo was always close by to play the piano my sisters resented. My father left home at age 8 when his mom moved to London to become a nanny to an ambassador. My father sold newspapers throughout Latin America. Meeting him you would never know he was on his own at such a young age. A resilient man who lived a colorful life. I have a ragged collection of his writing that he left with his aunt for safe keeping. She lost most but held onto his first poems. My father the lover. I see him in my sisters, my brothers, nieces and nephews. I even see him in my son. A complex man but I definitely know this old man was my father.
