Remembering

Robert Paul Sherwood

Known to many of us as Daddy or Dad, if you prefer.

Daddy would have been 99 years old Wednesday August 14th, so Luke thought it appropriate -- and I agreed -- to spend the time until his 100th birthday sharing stories about him.

Stories that stand out to you for any reason, teaching moments for you or for him... fond memories... difficulties... hilarities, whatever.  Share old pictures, too, I'm sure we would all like to hear each other's memories.  

Posted by Anne

Off came the sidewalk

It was at the house on Whitford Ave. We all sat on benches at dinner time. After a pot roast or spaghetti, or whatever might have been on the menu, the summertime, with its bright after-dinner sunshine, seemed to be the season for indulgent desserts.

For a time, we had orange Hostess cupcakes. I think it was only for a short time.

Whether we froze them first to be had after dinner, I'm not sure. But one evening, with the bright sunshine streaming through the large kitchen window on Whitford Ave., Dad was feeling playful and he did one of the things that you don't expect, but wind up remembering.

I think he wanted to save the delicious frosting on top to have at the end of the rest of his cupcake. He peeled it off, and said, "Oh look, the sidewalk's come off!"

So naturally all us wee bairns took the sidewalks off our own cupcakes. I looked at it with one of those weird flights of fancy that I frequently took, and take to this day. I imagined subterranean pipes, and utilities the kind of which were beyond my ken, and subways, all under a layer of very messy dirt.

I have thought of sidewalks on cupcakes many times in the intervening sixty or so years, God help me. I just wish I could remember the flavor a little better.

Cue the "Twilight Zone" theme

Frequently Dad had to go to Washington to deal with regulatory matters for Mohawk. These trips became more frequent during a period in the 1960s, while we lived on Main Street; Dad would be gone for several nights in a row, which was an odd thing in itself, but we hordes of children would bear up reasonably well. Mom did okay too, as I recall it.

Dad liked his pre-dinner drinks, and even more, he liked a good deal on buying the liquor, and when you're in Washington, nothing got you a better deal than the duty-free shop. There was apparently a large entry area in a warehouse somewhere, with a series of teller-like windows opposite, and a queue would form in a sort of informal, jostling sort of way, for each window that had a staff member.

Well, Dad picked a line and stood patiently while another gentleman stood approximately abreast of him. Shoulder to shoulder they inched their way forward, unsure of who was ahead of whom. They apparently made enough eye contact to start up a conversation. Of all the adjectives that described Dad, you wouldn't find "shy" on the list.

After a few introductory pleasantries, the gentleman vying for queue priority with Dad introduced himself as Bob Sherwood. I'm sure Dad didn't miss a beat. He said something like, "You can't be, because I'm Bob Sherwood." Well, then the conversation started in earnest, and the competition for getting to the hootch dispensary window faded into the background.

Listening to and watching Dad tell the story was almost as much fun as seeing it unfold in person. He mimicked himself with a raise of his eyebrows, and the tone of surprise. A total treat. 

The thing I remember about Dad all the time is how he used to play with us in the backyard after dinner when it was getting on for dusk in the summer time.  We would run around and shriek and he would chase us all over the place.  I remember this at 178 Main particularly.  It was amazingly satisfying for me.  It seemed to go on for hours -- wasn't he old?  Maybe it just seemed long because it was so important for me.  It seemed like he was truly enjoying it, and we sure were!

Christmas

I've been foraging around in some old boxes out in the garage and found a few old pictures. Here's one of Dad at Christmas, and I think it was at Foster City maybe in the mid 70's. Dad's enjoying himself.

Square Dancing

Does anyone remember this:

Go walkin' around the square, you really make a perfect pair,
Go right, go left, and form a star,
Shoot that start, left allemand
you pass your partner by,
do-si-do your taw [sic]
and then you promenade the ring and sing
I don't know why, I love you like I do,
I don't know why but I do....

Whenever I heard that as a kid, I always wanted to say, 'Dad! Wait! You don't know why but you DO know why? I don't get it!'

Anyway, I'm sure there are several more memories of Mom and Dad Square Dancing!

Better Half

When I was very young I heard Dad refer to Mom as "my better half". The affection and deference in that term eluded me then, but became clear years later.