With Love and WD-40: Honoring Dad Father’s Day and Every Day
By Michael Goldenkranz
Our dad just passed at age 94. He was quite a character, but perhaps his most lasting impression was to instill in all of us — his children, grandchildren, and hopefully great-grandchildren — the need to volunteer and be active in our communities, as he did through five decades of volunteer work.
When asked how he’d like his passing to be marked, Dad combined his love of the Navy and opera experiences to often proclaim, “I want to go out on a Viking ship, at sea, that’s set aflame, with Viking opera music playing.” And so, a small remainder of his ashes will be launched at an ocean beach, in a very, very small-scale model Viking ship with Wagner playing.
As for his headstone elsewhere, Dad simply looked at the blank side of our mom’s shared double stone and said, “An arrow pointing left, that also says ‘I’m with her.’” And so it shall be.
But his real legacy is in how he encouraged his children and grandchildren to volunteer and do something to make a difference for those without access, whether to health care, justice, or education. Along with this loving tribute to my dad for Father’s Day, let me take a moment to reflect on him with some humor, which is something else he taught me.
Reflecting on our 94-year-old Dad’s wit and wisdom, I have wondered if 94-year-old Clint Eastwood (yep, same age as Pop) modeled his various character roles after our Dad.
Pop had Clint Eastwood’s mettle (but the opposite political affiliation, despite them both being quite politically active). Dad’s philosophy towards Trump and his apostates is classic “Dirty Harry”: “These loonies, they ought to throw a net over the whole bunch of ‘em.”
And like Walt Kowalski in “Gran Torino,” we still couldn’t pry Dad’s Korean War vet hat off his head until he literally passed.
In Brooklyn, as the city kept digging up Dad’s sidewalk to repair what clearly was not broken, Dad’s response to the workers was vintage Walt: “Get off my lawn.”
Unlike me, Dad was quite handy, and subscribed to Walt’s mantra: “With WD-40, a vise grip, and a roll of duct tape, any man worth his salt can fix half the household.”
For decades, Dad was integrally involved in successful U.S. Congress and Senate campaigns for fellow Brooklynite Chuck Schumer. In fact, Dad volunteered as Senator Schumer’s campaign treasurer for 40 years.
Dad would proclaim after each election, just like Clint’s Earl in “The Mule,” “So help me God, this is the last one.”
My youngest brother loves to recall how our dad, a native New Yorker, as a teenager spent more time (by his own admission) in pool halls and crap games than at school. So after graduating, he joined the Navy, where he served proudly and was joined by our mom, Betty. After completing his service, he returned to New York and had a successful career in aerospace and then in distribution for a company that specialized in home textiles.
Dad re-entered college the year my youngest brother was in a summer program there (so they could go to school together); he ended up graduating with honors and was the commencement speaker.
Pop was our Cal Ripken — he spent years without missing a day of work.
Along the way he taught us about Bob Dylan and opera, how to throw a baseball and hit a topspin backhand, and how to win at poker and was always present for our youth events.
When you had his attention, you had his full attention. He was a great and patient listener.
During our mom’s arduous goodbye, Dad was her practical, patient, tender caregiver while becoming a devoted participant in the local Alzheimers’ Assocation and support groups and “walking his talk” for every Alzheimer’s Walk.
After September 2022, when our mom passed two days after their 70th anniversary, Dad got cranky. When he lamented the loss of his bride of 70 years, he sounded just like “Gran Torino’s” Walt: “I may not be the most pleasant person to be around, but I got the best woman.” He did indeed.
And fortunately, we got the best dad. I’m grateful he didn’t just talk the talk — he walked it. He led by example and encouraged us to be civically engaged, to be part of the solution rather than the sideline commentary. He believed in stepping up, not sitting back.
So, as he would say when I complained, “Quit whining and do something about it. Go volunteer.” And my message to those reading this: KCBA has plenty of opportunities to do just that!
Happy Father’s Day, upstairs, Dad. Truth be told, in the end you were still a lot more fun, upbeat, and optimistic than me.
For more information about my dad (other than his volunteer activities), see www.alzheimersblog.org/2021/01/11/aptos-couple-loses-ability-to-communicate-as-pandemic-keeps-them-apart.
Michael Goldenkranz is retired but still “works” on being a curmudgeon and volunteer for pro bono services. Mike proudly wears a T-shirt that states: “I’m retired full time, but I work part time as a Pain in the Ass” ... volunteering, just like Dad. His dad’s Navy jacket hugs the back of his den chair. His youngest brother, Andrew, contributed to this tribute.
