First Person / Dialing Dad
Share with others:
The other day I pocket dialed my dad's phone number. Of course, because the phone was in my pocket, I didn't hear the response.
I got a return call, though. I pulled the phone out and saw my father's name, Norris White, and cell number on the screen.
It startled me. My dad had died on Valentine's Day, 2011.
I answered haltingly, "Hello?"
It wasn't my dad. It was a young man from Philadelphia. He'd gotten the number in April, about a month after my brother had cancelled my dad's phone.
I told the young man a little about my dad, that he was a World War II paratrooper, a union carpenter and a master wood turner, that his fingers were so big he had a hard time pressing the tiny buttons on his cell phone. I said my dad had lived a long and happy life. And I told the young man, now that he and my dad had this quirky connection, I hoped that meant he would experience the same longevity and joy.
My husband said I was crazy. He said I shouldn't have bothered the kid with all that. To make sure it didn't happen again, he advised deleting my dad's phone number.
I didn't want to do that. It felt like I'd be erasing a piece of my dad. And I had some questions. It would be so great to call my dad again and talk.
When my brother and sister and I were clearing out our childhood home, we found a bundle of love letters my dad had sent to my mother in Asheville, N.C., in the weeks before their wedding.
In them, my dad explains he's staying in Hollywood, Fla., where they had met, for a few extra days for his bachelor's party. He says he's saving money. He talks about a minor accident on his Indian motorcycle. In several, he addresses her as "chicken," as in "Dear Chicken." There are lots of endearing nicknames -- darling, honey, poopsie -- but chicken? What's that all about? I want to call him on the phone and ask.
At the viewing, a couple of my much older cousins described my dad in a way I'd never conceived him. They said he was dashing. They said he rode to family events on that Indian bike, all blonde and handsome and thrilling. Home from Normandy and Nijmegan, my dad was James Dean to them.
First Published February 4, 2012 12:00 am
