Memories of Dad-
Walter Ronald, Ron, Ronnie, Dad, Grandad, Great Grandad, Dad had many titles and some names we called him that are probably not suitable to share in this reflective space! Though he did know we would, somewhat lovingly, call him ‘Grumpy Grandad’! Because he could be!
Mum often says he was at the back of the line when they were giving out ‘passion and emotions’ and that is certainly true, dad wasn’t an overly emotional or passionate guy- unless of course he was screaming at Maggie Thatcher on the TV to ‘shut up’!
OK dad I’m sure you’re not chuffed Maggie has had a mention at your funeral- I think Trump gets a mention later- so maybe I should mention Boris too and that’s the full house!
But as I’ve been reflecting on what to say about my dad today, I guess I want to put into words what as an adult I have come to realise; my dad was very much a product of his upbringing and his generation…
Firstly, the stigma and hard- times that surrounded him as a young boy:
He was born in the ‘German Hospital’ in Hackney 1937 at this time it was run entirely by German doctors and nurses. At the start of the 2nd world war all these German doctors and nurses were interned on the Isle of Man- I’m left curious as to why he was born here- not the usual maternity hospital that served Walthamstow- I’m guessing it’s due to his Fathers heritage. Stigma
Dad’s Dad- Mark Samuel was born in 1901in Lemberg- Ukraine and came to the UK around the age of 10. At that time Ukraine was part of the Austria- Hungarian empire, it lies closest to the Polish border, he was Jewish. He spoke German. For dad this meant growing up Jewish during the second world war as an impressionable young boy. He was 8 when the war ended- we can only imagine what that may have been like for him and his parents. Stigma
Dad never talked much about his past and I remember it dawning on me at his 80th Birthday meal that he had been born just before the 2nd world war and so lived through it. He told us then, about the many air raids and bombs. One- a ‘V1 flying bomb’ that had dropped in August 1944 that flattened houses and businesses on the opposite side of Hoe Street, where he was living- he said how he looked out his window and it was all flattened- everything had gone- he remembers playing over the rubble. He was 7. This bomb alone killed 22 people and injured 144. Hard- times
He was an only child and I have recently found out that his father had been a divorcee before marrying his mother and that they had married 3 years after his birth- in 1930’s that meant - Stigma
He grew up in a small flat over the top of the factory of the local tailors – sewing machines rumbling on day & night. There was no kitchen, the cooker was in the living room. His mum Elise would fill a bowl from the bath to wash up in. Hard- times
When dad was in his early 20’s he did 3 years of National service in Germany, his Dad died before he returned home, and his mum died when he was 25. Hard- times
1961 he met Mum. The generation in which they grew up and societal norms meant mum waited on Dad hand and foot. Mums diary entries for when they first started dating read: ‘Went to Ron’s in the afternoon- cleaned the carpets’; and ‘went to Ron’s in the evening- cleaned the saucepan out’!
When Mark & I came along he went out to work and Mum was a housewife and mother- that’s how it was…
So- what am I getting to here? I guess I am getting to the point at where dad started as ‘Dad’ with all that went before, with all his life experiences hard- times and stigma, what had he learnt about how to parent? The realisation that what Dad was able to give me as a child was as the provider- he provided for us. He gave us security, reliability, he was solid, dependable and predictable – if a little to regimented at times! ….. but this ‘providing’…. this was our safety…
We had a lovely home to grow up in with a garden, we had food in our bellies, nice clothes, clean school uniform and shoes. We had memorable birthdays and Christmases. We had pets, lots of pets. We always had a wonderful 2-week summer holiday – to Great Yarmouth or Walton on the Naze or Cornwall and in Later years to Wales to see family and to Yorkshire- he loved walking in the countryside- and we had some fabulous mountain and dale walks (even if my 14 year old self didn’t appreciate it Dad!) Security. Happy, solid, memories
Every morning he would sit down to his breakfast laid out by mum– Tea, corn flakes, toast & marmalade. Predictable & safe
His polished shoes for work would always be by the front door- shiny as anything you could see your face in them (that was one job he did do- didn’t trust mum for that one!) Predictable & safe
Evenings came round and he would be in that front door from work at 5:30 every evening. and sitting in front of the TV by 5:40! Reliable
He’d sit in same chair, at same time, watching the same programs …smoking…. Predictable
Of course, the other predictable but UNSAFE things were getting me to buy his tobacco from the corner shop from the age of 7- ‘half ounce of golden Virginia and a packet of green rizlas’ please’ engrained on my memory! Him smoking in car with us kids rattling around in the back seat with no seat belts- wow- how the times have changed.
He would let us do whatever new activities or clubs we wanted – I played guitar, cornet, violin, went to brownies, guides, rangers, I did ballet and gymnastics… every single Wednesday evening and Saturday Morning for many years in a row he would take me and my friend Amanda to gymnastics and wait for hours at the sports center while I forged my future dreams as a professional gymnast- we can see how that worked out. Reliable- dependable
We were one of the first of my friend’s families to get the latest in technology in the early 80’s- a VCR- Video Cassette Recorder! We were captivated as a family when we were able to record the TV and play it back whenever we wanted- it was brilliant! We sat, as a family, and watched Fawlty Towers Season 2- Episode 6- ‘Basil the Rat’ for what felt like 100 times!! Dad did provide us with all the latest gadgets! Though from the moment they invented the ‘remote control’ it didn’t leave his hand!
And when I sleep-walked out of my room, down the stairs, across the lounge, in an anxious panic to find the red button I needed to push to save the world – he would calmy steer me back to bed telling me of course there was no red button- I was sleep walking- go back to sleep- no nonsense, reliable.
In later life he and mum have been an invaluable support and irreplaceable part of the grandchildren’s lives – the time they have spent with them, holidays and days out. solid and dependable
Never refusing a plea for support- whatever that may be. Reliable- secure
So thank you dad – for being dependable- for being solid and reliable- thank you for being you – so you lacked passion and maybe a little short with the emotion- but all of it has shaped me- made me who I am- so I could go on to bring up my children and so they could be them- we haven’t done bad and I’m surly proud of who I am and who they are…Your DNA and influence will live on in us Dad and all the grandchildren and great grandchildren.
And lastly – how cool- you donated your corneas to NHS Blood & Transplant, that means hopefully you will continue to see the world through someone else’s eyes- and through their world view – a different lens maybe? How amazing is that!
Rest in Peace Dad.