The Year my Father was Born − 28 May, 1942
The year was 1942. It was a very good year. It was The Summer of ’42. He was the youngest by over a decade. He was a “surprise”.
He was named after his long deceased infant brother, twin to Joan, also deceased. He was also named after his father, a second generation Englishman. His mother was a second generation Italian, though her parents and siblings had been born in the old country.
He was the beloved baby brother of two older sisters. He was too young to get close to an older brother who soon moved away to begin his own life.
As a youngster he lived in a house with dirt floors and an outhouse. He had a pet goat named Herky and a pet Boston Terrier named Timmy. Later, he shared several different houses with his feuding sisters, brother, and parents.
As a boy he was Jack. Later he became John. As Jack, he had many friends in the ‘hood and played the kick the can and stickball. His best friend was “Sonny”.
He entered the seminary at 14 and emerged a young man. He would not become a priest, although he inherited the many gifts of a seminary education. He knew philosophy, theology, Latin, and Greek.
He went on to live an enriched life, far beyond what his father, a crane operator, could have imagined when he said, “Son, I want you to get an education. I want you to do better than I have done.”
The baby brother grew to tower over his family at 6’ 4”. But he never forgot them, nor did he ever stop visiting. Family get-togethers were joyful afternoons with children running freely and adults relaxing with beer and conversation.
Later as his parents aged and the children had grown, gatherings were at his house. He remained as close as he could to his feuding sisters, long after his life had diverged from theirs. He watched his mother deteriorate and pass, and four years later, he lost his father.
1942 was a very good year. It is also a year that comes up frequently in novels written by great American writers of his generation. In any John Irving novel, a character has been born in 1942.
I love my father and I love John Irving. But maybe I love John Irving that much more because he was born in 1942. For me, it will go down in history as one the very best years ever.
He was named after his long deceased infant brother, twin to Joan, also deceased. He was also named after his father, a second generation Englishman. His mother was a second generation Italian, though her parents and siblings had been born in the old country.
He was the beloved baby brother of two older sisters. He was too young to get close to an older brother who soon moved away to begin his own life.
As a youngster he lived in a house with dirt floors and an outhouse. He had a pet goat named Herky and a pet Boston Terrier named Timmy. Later, he shared several different houses with his feuding sisters, brother, and parents.
As a boy he was Jack. Later he became John. As Jack, he had many friends in the ‘hood and played the kick the can and stickball. His best friend was “Sonny”.
He entered the seminary at 14 and emerged a young man. He would not become a priest, although he inherited the many gifts of a seminary education. He knew philosophy, theology, Latin, and Greek.
He went on to live an enriched life, far beyond what his father, a crane operator, could have imagined when he said, “Son, I want you to get an education. I want you to do better than I have done.”
The baby brother grew to tower over his family at 6’ 4”. But he never forgot them, nor did he ever stop visiting. Family get-togethers were joyful afternoons with children running freely and adults relaxing with beer and conversation.
Later as his parents aged and the children had grown, gatherings were at his house. He remained as close as he could to his feuding sisters, long after his life had diverged from theirs. He watched his mother deteriorate and pass, and four years later, he lost his father.
1942 was a very good year. It is also a year that comes up frequently in novels written by great American writers of his generation. In any John Irving novel, a character has been born in 1942.
I love my father and I love John Irving. But maybe I love John Irving that much more because he was born in 1942. For me, it will go down in history as one the very best years ever.
