It is done Dad

This is a photo of a man whose life is almost over. All his hopes and dreams are behind him. I knew him all my life. He was my dad.

He was born in a same coastal North Carolina town just after the turn of the century. He never spoke of his mother and father or older brother. He never spoke of his past.

His father was in the food distribution trade and his mother was involved in the church but little else is know of his family life.

He grew up with the introduction of electricity, the telephone, the automobile, the television and indoor plumbing.

He seemed to tend toward music (whether a desire or home pressure) but not so much as a musician but as an organizer of bands. Never found a diploma in music but he learned how to compose, arrange and conduct.

He followed a career in music but never got that break and when the war started that dream ended.

Now married with a child on the way, he had to find a new form of employment. He fell back to his connections in the food distribution business and honed his other talent…smoozing.

Going from hotels to beach clubs to country clubs, he finally settled in Richmond. Trying to maintain what notability he had became the manager of a private gentleman’s club across from the Capitol.

He purchased a small house in a stable area of town with near by schools, public transportation and little association with the neighbors.  He maintained the image of America’s middle class in the 50’s.

He dedicated himself to the job working endless hours day and night. He alone paid the bills, kept food on the table, but relaxed by being left alone.

His boys grew up and left for college, though it took some time to shake the youngest one. He was then left alone in an empty house with his singer.

His previous fame was fading, as club members grew older and new ones didn’t recognize his nickname “Jelly”. Times were changing and he couldn’t keep up.

He was slowly eased out of his occupation into an unknown retirement. He had no hobbies, few friends and no idea what each day would bring. He stayed connected to the church though never seemed religious.

Two years later his health failed and he was placed in the ground next to his father (whether he’d prefer that or not?). His name was written in the history books and it was done.

I am now the same age as the man in that picture.