The Sunday Memory Drawer - Wise Words From My Dad on His Day

Not many photos of my dad exist.   Indeed, he was usually the photographer, not the photographee.

Yes, this would be his day.   Father's Day.   Actually it would be his weekend as his birthday was yesterday.   Always a little more wistful when the days coincide.  And this birthday, in particular.   It would have been his 100th!

So, I've told many a tale of my father here in the past.   But, lo and behold, this is a new one.   And it sprang to the forefront of my memory drawer because of all the recent events in our country.   Not the pandemic.   The other one.   

As I watched the images and read the prose of "the other" situation, I remembered when my dad and I had "The Talk."   No, not about sex.   I don't think that ever happened, as a matter of fact.   Nope, "The Talk" I am referring to is when I first started driving the family car.  It was summer and I was in college and soloing with my father's Buick barge.   I can recall the words as clearly as if I heard them yesterday.

"Do you know what you should do if you are ever stopped by a policeman?"

I didn't.   I knew I was going to hear it right now.

"If you are ever pulled over, don't ask a lot of questions."

"Just smile and nod yes.   Don't argue."

"Don't move abruptly."

"Ask permission before you reach into the glove compartment for the registration and insurance."

"Whatever you do, don't get out of the car unless he asks you, too."

"Respect the law."

I probably half-listened and thought more about that night's Met game.   As I have mentioned this to a few friends of late, I realized that they, too, had the same experience with the same words.   

Yes, they had been given "The Talk." 

As fate and the Gods would have it, it would only be a few weeks before "The Talk" actually came into play for me.

It was summer and I was working at my college radio station WFUV-FM, Fordham University.   My dad was off, so I got the glory of driving the limousine to campus.   I was headed back to Mount Vernon and was picking up the Bronx River Parkway at the Mosholu Parkway entrance.   I promptly came up the entrance ramp a little too quickly.   So quick, in fact, that I zoomed onto the parkway without yielding.

There was a cop right behind me and the lights flashed.   I pulled over to the grassy shoulder.

The officer approached the car.   And, immediately, I had forgotten the words connected to "The Talk."

I asked what I did wrong.

He told me.

I said I didn't.

Mistake.

"Are you telling me you didn't do anything wrong, Junior?"

Junior?   Yes, he called me Junior.

The cop scolded me for either a hour or, more likely, five minutes.   Somehow I talked my way into not one citation, but two.   

And then I got a final warning.

"Don't let me see you ever again, Junior."

The easy part was telling my dad what happened.   And getting "The Talk" repeated to me one more time.

My father punctuated it with one word.

"See."

On a purely anecdotal point, I will add one more highlight to the story.

The policeman was Black.   

I did not knock down a statue of Bill Cosby.   Or protest for a ban on all Sidney Poitier movies.   It is what it is.   And I echo words my dad said at another time.

"There are bad cops.   There are bad lawyers.   There are bad accountants.   There are bad people.  But most of them are good."

And that's the case.   Whether you are white, black, or purple.

Happy Dad's Day to one and all.   I hope you can recall some wise words yours shared with you.

Dinner last night:  Pizza with good friends Leo and Connie.