Notes on Father's Day

Our dad spent Father's Day weekend with us. Among other things we and the Stroocklettes saw a Somerset Patriots game, our local minor league team.

In our youth Dad and I used to go to a lot of Yankees games, it was one of our things. Giants too, during  the Parcells-LT era. So this was nice. I don't think we'd been to a ballgame together since 2003.

In 1993 we saw the Yankees play the Milwaukee Brewers. Early in the game Yankees catcher Mike Stanley hit a home run that landed right at our feet. We still have the ball somewhere.

Last night, after our online thingy with Cindy Sheehan, we attended a neighborhood block party. The girls had a great time, as always.

Things like that put us in mind of our grandfather, our second father's day without the old bastard.

He was a powerful man, a dominant man, a patriarchal man. In his final years Mark Stroock the II was simply an old man who liked hearing about what his great grandchildren were up to and he loved knowing that the family was enjoying the lake house he bought in 1973. Nothing made him happier. 

In a relationship that was often difficult, and filled with stress for me, we enjoyed those evening phone calls from Massachusetts and simply stating when we got off the phone, 'He is pleased.'

He would have loved hearing about the ballgame and block party and I wish I could tell him about it.