Mister Roffe

Happy Father’s Day, Dear Readers.  Hope it’s a glorious day for you and your families.

Those misspelled (No two N’s in “Benjamin”) dog tags are souvenirs of my dad’s Navy career. He was a radarman on the U.S.S. Shangri-La.

Here he is in the Pacific on August 17, 1945- two days after the ceasefire ending the hostilities with Japan.

(The crew was at quarters on the flight deck for the first time since entering the combat area.)

My dad told me a lot about his Navy days.  He told me a lot about everything.

And he didn’t just tell.  He showed.

My dad took us everywhere and I have lots of fond memories of Kenny and I going to his office on Saturdays.

He worked for a company called Zimmerman Brush.  My uncle Mike Zimmerman was the boss.  It was headquartered in an old factory on West Lake Street in Chicago.  Back in those days, the factory was dilapidated and the neighborhood even more run down.

These days the building has been repurposed.  It contains expensive condos for well-off Gen X’ers.  Check it out now.

Who would have thunk it?

My dad always took us to the ball park and my favorite drive in- Henry’s.

(Yum.  I loved the hamburger deluxe.  Wish I had one now, brother.)

As he grew older, the roles reversed.  It was my pleasure to take him to things.

Andrea Bocelli at the United Center.

And we always went to the movies together.  In 2006, I took him to see The Queen.  He loved it.

I’m sure glad he did.  It was the very last movie he ever saw.

I loved watching him learn to ski- at 81- and I got a kick out of how much he enjoyed life in Colorado.

Old age didn’t slow him down.

Except once.

Dad and I had tickets for “An Evening with Anjelica Huston” at The Wheeler Opera House in Aspen.

It was a retrospective of her films and a Q. and A. session with the audience to follow.

It was just she and a moderator on the stage of the theater and Dad watched, enrapt by her anecdotes, poise and Hollywood lineage.

And then he turned to me.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” he whispered.

And he quietly got out of his seat and disappeared.

A few minutes later he reappeared.

On stage.

He had taken a wrong turn somehow and ended up smack in the middle of the show with Anjelica.

He looked sheepish.

The audience roared.

An usher was quickly dispatched to show him back to his seat.

But you see, that was really where our father belonged.

Center stage.

Where he remains to this day.

In my heart and Kenny’s.

A round of applause for all our fathers today.