A Dad For Daughters
Happy Father's Day!
There are dads who were meant to be fathers to boys and dads who were made for girls. My dad, Lou Bloomberg, was a dad for daughters. Perhaps that’s why I love dads & daughters.
He was the oldest child in a family with 4 sisters, so I suppose he grew up with an added dose of sensitivity. With my mom, my sister Susan and me he continued to be surrounded by girls. When people asked if he regretted not having sons in his life he’d look at them as though he felt sorry they were missing something extra special.
As with the story of my mom, my dad took joy in being a father, however, his first love was being Anne’s husband and soul mate. (But that’s a post for another day.) I think that framed his view of fatherhood .. to love all of us unconditionally and to build his world around his ‘girls.’
Dad loved to sing. He especially loved to sing Cole Porter songs but could never remember all of the lyrics. He’d sing a few lines and hum a few bars and pick up the tune where ever it landed. So that’s how I’ll tell you about my dad. I’ve got you under my skin
Dad was one of the smartest people I’ve known. His was one of the first classes at Boston University to graduate with a major in marketing research. He started his data collection business when the industry was beginning to gain credibility. He wold have loved the way the internet and social media opens the world wider. He taught me about business, ethics, risks and that it’s ok to fire a client if values don’t align.
A vivid childhood memory was dad taking me to get my library card. It was a much anticipated event. Although I had been reading for a few years, I had to know how to write my name to get the coveted pass to unlimited books. Dad read at least 4 newspapers every day plus various books and trade pubs. Ad Age was a staple in our home. He fostered a love for reading that I’ve treasured my whole life. So deep in my heart, that you’re really a part of me
One special night when I was a teenager dad took me on a just dad and me “date.” We went to a little French restaurant on Newbury Street in Boston. As we walked down the stairs to the cellar dining room, I felt so grown-up and elegant. To this day France and French food hold a place in my heart. He opened my world to new experiences and an appreciation of different foods. As the French would say, “de trop”
My sister was upset .. okay, she was pissed in only the way a younger sister could be! .. that she wasn’t invited. Mom reminded Susan that she wouldn’t have eaten anything from the menu (she was a very picky eater) and she had lots of McDonalds “dates” with Dad.
On August 9th, 1986 Dad got a very special present that would be joy of this phase of his life. His granddaughter Jessica Robyn. Three years later Susan was pregnant with Scott. Dad was thrilled. Sadly, Dad died a few months before he could finally welcome a little boy into his word.
I once saw my father cry. I was a very little girl and it frightened me. I saw my parents argue. I was a little girl and it frightened me. My parents sat me down and explained that people who love each other don’t have to always agree. He showed me if you created a safe environment (read home) being emotionally vulnerable could be a good part of life’s experiences. You’re the top!
Dad was a bit mischievous, in fact he liked to break the rules. His sister, Auntie Marcie, use to tell the story when he was a boy how he would hitch-hike from Boston to Texas. Aunt Nellie would call my Nana. “Louie’s here.” “Put him on a bus and send him home.”
When he was very ill in the hospital, all he wanted a sip of his favorite liqueur — Anise. Our dear family friend Polli stealthy hid a bottle in her purse. With giggles that we were doing something against The Rules, we made our way to the visitor sunroom and joined dad in what would be his last toast. He taught me that actions have consequences but if you believe in something it’s your responsibility to weigh the situation and do what is in your heart.
He was my confident, my mentor, my friend, my champion who never told me I couldn’t do it .. whatever “it” might be. He was my daddy and if this virtual post has a couple of virtual tear spots I know you’ll understand.
But if this ditty is not so pretty
At least it’ll tell you
How great you are.
Mrs. Robinette –
What a wonderful treat to see your comment! I have such fond memories of you and your family and of your kindness to me, my mom, dad and sister. I think of you often and how amazing to connect here. Will make sure that Polli sees your comment.
Wondering if you might be interested in telling some of your stories on atsGf? I know our community would love it. I’ll reach out offlist.
Thought of you so often…So glad I went into Facebook and found this site. Your Dad & Daughters also brought tears. I’m at the stage now of mentally running up & down our neighborhood and recalling this family & that family. So it was grand to hear of the family that was my next door neighbor.
This past fall I turned 80! I can’t believe it… I’ve often thought of writing something along the lines of what you have done.
I applaud you for having the gumption to do so. In my lifetime you are the second person I have known to have written and had published their life events.
Loved the story about you and Polli. In April of 1975 when my Dad came to #26 to take his last breath, Bob & I “treated” him to a sip of liquor to ease his pain. It was our gift to him, as he was a recovering alcoholic not having imbibed for thirty years.
I’ll stop here and continue to read on. Happy One Year Anniversary
My very best wishes to you,
Fondly Joan R.
That was so sweet! Brought tears to my eyes-and stirred up many memories of “Mr B” that I hold dear. He was a true gentleman.
Polli – How could I tell the story of “Mr. B” w/out including the anise toast? You brought smiles to a difficult time .. as you did so often! Sometimes friends turn into family.
A tribute to a gr8 dad (not mine – Toby Diva’s) http://t.co/6V8bsJV
Thanks for the tweet out Yvonne. He would have loved you and admired your innovative, entrepreneurial spirit. Just like I do!