Sometimes when alone on a long journey, the mind has a way of pulling you into distant memories-if you let it. If it’s pleasant, I let it. Last week on one of those journeys I found myself thinking about my father and smiling. I had to smile because suddenly, out of the blue, I understood the why of some unusual stories he would tell me when I was a child. In those days people didn’t have the flood of information that we have in today’s world. They had to be creative.
When we were young, I don’t remember the exact age, my father would tell stories relating to alcohol and gambling. Those were the times when he’d call me Francesca. Now I know those were also the times when he was gearing up for something-something that was difficult for him to do.
He’d begin in this way, “Francesca,” he’d always catch me off guard, “when I was young and single I used to go out with my friends. There were times when we’d be walking home in the late evening, and all of a sudden we’d see a beautiful woman lying in the gutter with her dress up to here.” he’d then indicate the height. “She was drunk, Francesca, there’s nothing worse than a woman lying dead drunk, legs sprawled, in the gutter.” I can still hear him as he emphasized certain words. I hear him clearly, even now. Interesting tactics my father employed. As for me, it’s one glass of wine, two if it’s a light table wine, no one will ever find me dead drunk lying in the gutter, with my dress up to “here.”
This is how he handled the gambling stories. “Francesca, when I was young and single, I had friends who loved to gamble. The problem was that they were good, and didn’t know when to stop. Can you imagine, Francesca, going home to the wife (yes, that’s what he said, “the wife”) , and telling her you lost your entire paycheck, the paycheck for the mortgage, for food, for maybe medicine, for the children-the whole paycheck gone?”
He told those stories in an easy style. I can’t remember what my young mind thought of those stories at that time, but I do know that I’m not a gambler either. I’ve won at the black jack table, and when I win, a pack of wild horses couldn’t separate me from that money.
I’ve got to give you credit, dad; you were clever.