I encountered a ghost of my father right in our conference room recently. As we were assembling the estate planning documents to be signed by a new client, my coworkers and I chatted about our first jobs and how much money we had made back then. (I was a summer bank teller and I made $5.50 per hour.) We made our way into the conference room, and as the client signed her documents, we continued to make small talk. I asked the client how much she made at her first job. She told us she made 75 cents an hour, and we asked her what the job was.
“I was a bookkeeper for a company called Smith & Gravely.”
Smith & Gravely? SMITH & GRAVELY?!!! My father was the “Smith” in Smith & Gravely. I could not believe it.
My father was older when I was born, and I was a child of his second marriage. He was married as a young man in the 1950’s about 20 years before I was born. He died at the age of 61 when I was in college. A stoic and stern man, he was not expressive. I knew little of his past, and what I knew came from my mother.
I asked my client what my father was like back then.
“Well I was not afraid of him. But he could be moody. You could tell when he walked in in the morning what kind of day it was going to be.”
Her response was so funny to me. My dad was, in fact, kind of scary. (But as my sister noted, Dad really only had one mood – bad.)
“Some of the other girls were scared of him. They would say ‘Oh no I have to go in there and talk to him.’”
Yes, yes. Consistent with my experience.
Making excuses, I told her that my father had a difficult childhood, and that his mother was a harsh and not-very-loving person.
“Oh I know that! You couldn’t do anything to please that woman!”
My Granny Smith died in the 1970’s. I have no pleasant memories of her, only memories of her being critical of others. I have even told my coworkers about my “mean old Granny Smith.” “See!” I told them. “She was a mean old lady!!!”
As it turns out, my client lived across the street from my father and his first wife, and had babysat my half-brother. In fact, she had even gone on vacation with my father’s extended family to babysit, when she unfortunately herself experienced the unpleasantness that was my granny.
The client also told me how the tragic death of my father’s younger brother had affected him greatly. My uncle (whom I never met) was an accomplished NASA scientist who unfortunately died as a young man. My father never spoke to me about his brother, Max, but I had seen Max’s leather briefcase in my father’s closet which he kept as a memento.
I was so taken aback by the details my client remembered about my father. It was strange to think that she knew things about him that I didn’t know myself.
The client also said my father was very concerned about how he presented himself, and that it was important to him to speak properly and to project that he was an educated person. Hearing this, I softened at his memory, knowing that although he was not a doting or affectionate father, he wanted what was best for his children. At the top of that list was a college education. I have often wished that my father knew that I went to law school and have my own law office. He would have loved that.
And for the record, like my client, I was not afraid of my father. I butted heads with him like a champ!
As a postscript, I have a different client with a great interest in Jefferson High School. In my office, there hangs a large composite photo of my father’s graduating class of 1949 which I randomly found one day while browsing at Black Dog Salvage. When I showed the picture to her, she went back and researched school records and reported back to me that my father was in band, on the football team, on the track team, and president of a club of students who went to school part of the day and worked part of the day. Neither my sisters nor I knew he participated in these activities!
–Robyn
