Parodies, Memories, and Illnesses

My dad's been sick with anemia and diabetes these past couple months and the one thing he’s truly adamant about is having his vegetable juice every morning along with his meds. He doesn't want Access-a-Ride, he doesn't want a home attendant helping him out for when he’s alone for most of the day, nor does he want a cane for when his gout acts up and can’t walk well; he just wants me to make his beets, carrots, cucumbers, and spinach juicified. According to my dad’s Tao book, these have the best nutrients for combating his illnesses.

The song “Thanks For the Memory” popped in my head the other day as I was preparing his drink, particularly the lines, “the park, the swings, those little things/you gave us from the heart”, lines I've always loved. These aren’t original songwriter Leo Robin’s lyrics though. This is part of my father’s parody that he wrote and sang in Co-Op City for his parent’s surprise 35th wedding anniversary party in 1985. I was 8 that year and thought that Uncle Bob’s big home video camera was from a real national network and that we were gonna be on TV.

“Hello everybody!” I joyfully greeted everyone, arms outstretched and welcoming. Then, feeling the need to go to the bathroom, I decided to let everyone know this. But since I thought the word “bathroom” was bad or at least too dirty to say on the air I spelled it out instead, and I think I spelled “b-a-t-h-r-o-o-m” with 3 o’s.  

Then it was time for Dad to take the stage and sing his song for everyone. He was so comfortable on the mic. He has an ease about him when he sings but still manages to give the words weight, a lot like his favorite singer Frank Sinatra used to do.

When I told Dad that the song was on my mind, he found the original on YouTube and played it for me. Dad tailored the lyrics specifically for his parents and it goes like this:

“Thanks for the memory

of all you had to teach

the Bronx and Orchard Beach

Although our name is Astor

and the dough was out of reach,

we thank you so much

Thanks for the memory

of Playland and its rides

Seaside with those Tides (which confused me because I thought he said “thighs”)

the zoo we knew so well

and with you our favorite guides

how lucky we were

Now that we're grown up we've shown up

to join in this great celebration

So on this special occasion

We're toasting to
the two of you and…

Thanks for the memory

of breakfasts for a start

hot dogs from the cart,

the park, the swings, those little things

you gave us from the heart

since our first breath

Thanks for the memory

Of mommy's rice and beans (and everyone chuckled)

Daddy's snoring dreams (laughter ensues)

He's not asleep just yet but you can bet beyond your means

he'll snore you to death (at this point I laughed too, especially at the word “snore”)

Now that you've heard what your life's been

you must know it wasn't so easy

Marriage is not for the queasy

we're all aghast

how you could last

We know it's been many years

since both of you were free

But think how it would be

if you hadn't gotten married…

What would that have made of ME?! (wild laughter here and years later I realized the joke was that he would have been a bastard. I just thought he meant that he wouldn’t have been born)

And thank you so much”

I heard Sinatra’s version years later, and frankly compared to Dad’s, didn't think much of it. I never knew it became Bob Hope’s theme song either until Dad told me that day. He points out how the song lends itself to parody by having a laundry list of memories and he found it easy to fill in the blanks with his own twist. To me, his version really shows how sweet, sentimental and funny he can be. I'm not suggesting that we've had nothing but a smooth father-daughter relationship all these years but we definitely share good memories. But there's something I just recently learned about him that makes me reconsider a lot of things. I don’t want to say it “explains a lot” but... it kind of does.

My great Uncle Raymond who died last month, would sexually abuse my father when he was a little boy. I am deliberately choosing the term abuse over molest because in Spanish, molestar just means to bother, to annoy. It doesn't carry the same weight when English speakers refer to someone who has been molested- so for me, someone who thinks a lot about English and Spanish cognates and root words, molest doesn't cut it. My father was more than bothered by his uncle. He was more than annoyed. His cousin Junior posted a picture of him on facebook the day he died which I think was March 18. I was telling Joe that normally I would have seen that and felt sad for another loss in our family. But because of what I now know, I didn't feel that when I saw his picture; I just looked at his face and thought... “a bad guy died”- Joe said, finishing my thought, but with a 'nicer' choice of words than I would have used.

This was the secret Dad kept to himself all these years- no, decades. This was the reason he was not interested in helping his uncle out with the rest of the family as they planned to take turns with driving him to chemo appointments, bringing food, and so forth. This is what he revealed to his sister Janis when she called to find out why he didn't want to help. And shortly after this revelation, my dad fell ill himself. My cousin Vincent and I correlate the two (revelation+illness) because they happened so back-to-back. Titi Janis and I grapple to forgive and understand/acknowledge/assume that someone must have abused Uncle Raymond too as a child, à la vicious cycle. Our minds are well aware of the fact that all evil and abuse did not beget with Uncle Raymond. But our hearts still struggle with the anger and contempt.

I’ve held so many jobs over the years that involve helping children in one way or another- tutoring, babysitting, serving as an after school teacher, sub, volunteering in my daughter's public school cafeteria and schoolyard. I remember learning about Catcher in the Rye’s Holden Caulfield wanting to guard children playing in a rye field (?), to keep them from falling off “the edge”, and realizing many years later that that's how I felt, especially when monitoring the children in the schoolyard, that's what I thought of. I feel like we need to fight abuse and evil somehow. Desperation, exploitation, and violence seem to be part of the human condition, that never seems to go away. But neither does the will and desire to combat it- and to survive the aftermath and heal. And survive again. And heal. Again. And again.