Happy Father's Day to one of the Greatest Liberals ever. My dad.

He was born in the ‘valley’ in CT in 1924. His parents hadn’t completed high school, but he and his sister not only completed high school, but also went on to graduate from college. After finishing high school, he went into the Army and was sent to New Zealand during the second World War. After that he went to Korea. Upon returning home to the states, he enrolled at the University of Connecticut and got his degree courtesy of the GI Bill.

He was an absolutely charming man. He had the best disposition of any person you would ever want to meet. He was funny, friendly and always had a kind word for everyone. He and my mom married and had four children. Me, first and then my three brothers. I remember my mom, a fierce feminist even back then, telling me that people actually asked my dad if he was disappointed that I was a girl, as if having boys was something proved virility. He and my mom would battle with neighbors, in a friendly way of course, whenever said neighbors would comment about not sending their daughters to college, but instead to ‘secretaries’ school’. My parents never wavered in their desire to send all four of their children to college. In fact, it was something we really didn’t discuss. It was just assumed that it would happen. And it did.

My dad was a devout Catholic and a fierce advocate for social justice. He would always help out at the Homeless Shelter either by volunteering or donating. Even as his body failed him in later years, he would still inquire as to whether or not someone had remembered to send them money, especially around the holidays.

His commitment to social justice was just one of the reasons he was a liberal Democrat. He served on the Democratic Town Committee for many, many years and never once voted for a Republican. He would say “they just don’t think like us”. No kidding. He despised George Bush and even in his failing state of mind recognized that Fox News was crap. Hard to believe that a 75 year old man with Alzheimer’s can realize what a third of the country have yet to.

One of the things I found most intriguing about him was that he would never record his charitable donations on his tax returns. He said if he did that, it wouldn’t really be a donation. The first time he said that, I remember feeling extremely humbled, because with four kids in college, he certainly could have used the tax break. He never once took it.

He was very successful in the 70’s when he needed it the most. His children were teenagers and getting ready to go to college. He insisted on paying for it. We all worked summer jobs, usually in factories, to obtain spending money for the year, but books, fees, tuition were all paid for by my parents. As a result, none of us left college with debt and it was a wonderful gift to us as we started our own lives.

As he got sick and his mind failed him, his sense of humor remained. He would say the funniest things, not realizing that they were funny. On Sept. 11, 2001, which also happened to be my brother’s birthday, we all watched in horror as the towers collapsed. The next day, when I called to talk to him, he told me he was exhausted because he had been ‘out all day’. I was wracking my brain trying to figure out where he could have possibly been on that day and finally asked him. “Dad, what were you doing?”. His reply. “I was helping with the rescue effort in New York”. Of course, he wasn’t. At that point, he could barely walk, but even though the body wasn’t willing, the mind was.

He took immense delight in his grandchildren and would tell anyone that was within earshot that they all looked exactly like him. Odd thing was, he was right. They did. Not one of the kids looks like the other side of their respective families. In the nursing home, where he lived his last few years, whenever one of my brothers would visit with their own children, the staff would always remark that “that has to be one of Mr. H***’s grandchildren”. I’m sure it ticked off the relatives, but we thought it was pretty funny.

One of the hardest things I ever had to do was to tell him that my brother’s wife had lost her battle to cancer. He was devastated, of course, but took such delight in the baby that she had given birth to, that it seemed to temper the grief. He is delighted to know, and I am sure he does, that my brother has remarried and they are expecting.

He was a great, great man and the world is a better place for having had him in it. At his funeral, there was so much traffic that the police had to request an additional officer to control it. He was buried with full military honors next to my mom.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad. And, thank you.

memories of him. I'm afraid I don't remember much of my dad's political views. He was already gone by the time I became politically aware. I like the fact that you're father was a "liberal Catholic" and a Democrat. I think most Catholics believe what he did about social justice if they are really good Catholics. Thanks for sharing these wonderful memories!