The End?

When I met Ed, we hit it off instantly. I teased him, and he shot right back with a grin. He played golf and poker, adored his family, listened more than he talked, and it was clear he’d worked hard all his life. In fact, when we met, he was still making parts for a local manufacturer in his garage. He was ninety years old then, had been crafting them for over twenty years, and kept at it for another ten. I’ll never meet anyone quite like him again.

I lost my father in 1999 and having Ed in my life the past eighteen years felt like a second chance with a father figure. I learned more about my dad in the last nine months of his life than I did the previous seventy-eight years. In the process I discovered that I learned because I listened more intently.

When you’re young you think you know better than the adults in your life. And you may about some things, but not the stuff that really matters. It takes a while to sort that out because you’re too busy living life. You have a career. You’re trying to make money to provide for your family, buy stuff, do stuff, and sometimes you just don’t pause to listen. By the time you’re ready to listen, they’re gone.

The last time I met with Ed, Barbara was with me. She met him the year before and they hit it off. He liked her and asked about her whenever we spoke on the phone. He wanted to know how my “new squeeze ” was doing. His words, not mine.

Near the end of that visit, he told Barbara about all the birthday cards he received last November. “The mailman told me that he’s never delivered so many cards to one person. I received four boxes full.” He outlined the size of the boxes by motioning with his hands. He was both happy and proud. And then he said, “Bob made that happen.”

While I didn’t deny my involvement, he received them because I encouraged people to send them. I just greased the wheels. You, and dozens like you, sent the cards. He exceeded the goal of 108 birthday cards that I set for him. I’m grateful for your support and kindness. Some of you thanked me for including you in the celebration. It was a team effort and both Ed and I appreciated your support.

My son, David, went with me to Ed’s funeral. I flew back for two days because I loved and respected the man. When we arrived, I found our poker group sitting together. Some were a part of the group before Ed joined us over eighteen years ago, and one or two are newbies. They’ve been playing for less than ten.

There are two Davids in the group, Bammer and Bosio. Bammer and I were a part of the group that formed in 1978. My David was a tad over three when we started. He’s fifty-one now. Bammer stopped playing a few years ago when he started to focus on his great-grandchildren’s athletic activities.

Bosio taught for me when I arrived in Addison. A few years later he became my assistant principal, and he ultimately landed his own gig. He joined the group shortly after it started and has remained with us for decades.

Bruce and Cal are long time members as well, although they’re not founding fathers. Once Cal joined, he stayed. Bruce has been around for a long time but took a leave of absence for a while when he extended his teamster career and actually drove a truck. He’d been a dispatcher for several years until his part of the teamster world closed.

Cal, like me, has been a part of several poker groups. Again, like me, he likes the action and we’ve seen a lot of it. He too is a storyteller, although he doesn’t write. He talks about the places we’ve been and the action we’ve seen. He’s got a great memory. When you’ve seen what we’ve seen, there’s no need to exaggerate.

Greg, aka The Kid, has doubled his lifetime playing with us. He was in his twenties when he started and he’s well into his forties now. He, too, took a leave of absence for work related job relocation, but has returned to reconnect with this group of card playing liars.

Tom joined about the same time that Ed did. Tom worked with me for a couple of years during my consulting days. Right before that he worked with my David in Michigan Center.

Mathias joined within the last five or so, after serving as a substitute for several. He, too, is a former teacher of mine.

Ed’s son, Craig, had been part of the group for decades as well. When Craig’s mom, Eleanor, passed away, he asked if his dad could come watch us play. We found out he played too, and soon Ed became a regular. We all grew to love him, knowing we’d never meet anyone quite like him again.

I sat with my David behind the other Davids and the rest of the poker boys, except for Craig, who sat with his family on the other side of the church. As I gazed at the backs of their heads, I drifted into memories. I thought of the places we’d visited, stories we’d lived and retold, and the many friends who’d played with us and we lost over the years: my best friend Jim, along with Dirk, Ken, Andy, and half a dozen others.

When we lost Ed, it felt like we lost our second father. I find myself thinking about that again this Father’s Day. I hope you find some comfort while you remember yours.