Keepin' It Real...

Dear Readers:
The following is the final message in an email exchange between Harry Diavatis and me.  Harry publishes a newsletter that goes out electronically to about 1,000 people, all of them graduates of the high schools in Vallejo, Ca. 

Hi, Harry -

When you asked me to write a few paragraphs about my father and what he meant to me, at first I said No, sorry, don't have time. But it's been running around my noggin ever since, so here goes.

My father was the one who taught me to throw and catch a baseball, beginning (according to family legend) when I was three. More than that, he taught me to love the game, something I was later able to share with my kids.

My father was the guy who took me with him on Saturday mornings to cash his paycheck from the shipyard. This included a bus ride to the Skipper's Club, then up Virginia Street to the original Relay, then over to the Towne House on Georgia, and finally, back on the bus for the ride home. Saloon hopping with Dad was my favorite thing to do when I was five.

My father shared his love of professional wrestling -- yes, wrestling! -- and took me to the Farragut Club on Georgia Street to see the likes of Leo Nomellini, the Sharp Brothers and Antonino Rocca.

My father gave me his work ethic, the drive to work longer and harder than the next guy. It's been a blessing, and at times, a curse. And of course, there's the related lesson: A Good Sailor always cleans up his own mess.

My father gave me his politics and the deeply ingrained belief that a working man has only two things going for him: his union and the Democratic Party. If he knew I voted for Ronald Reagan, he would never forgive me.

As I reached my teens, I found that I was angry with him much of the time. He was a hard man, and neither one of us could bend. And then he was gone, lost to a stroke and a heart attack, and we never had a chance to make amends.

But when I look in the mirror now, there he is. A little taller, a little thinner, and with more hair, but it's my Dad nonetheless. We're still working it out, him and me. But things are getting better all the time.

Thanks, Harry. And Happy Father's Day.

-Chuck
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