Happy 100th Birthday Dad, Wherever You Are

Here's an open letter to my dad, who would have turned 100 years old today:

My dad, Red Sutkoski, would have turned 100
years old today. Happy Birthday, dad! 

Dear Dad:    

Happy 100th birthday!  I hope wherever you are, they're showing you a good time. 

I can't believe it's been more than four years since who left Earth.  But you never really did leave us, did you? You show up in my dreams at least twice a week. Lynn and Laurie say you visit them frequently, too. 

In those nightime visits, you're the same as you always were. Steady, good humored, ready with good stories. You always remind me to try and be the same way.  Funny how I always wake up feeling better on mornings after your visits. 

As you well know, times are tough right now down here on Earth.  That virus going around the world is killing lots of people, and scaring the rest of us. The economy has bottomed out. A lot of people are unemployed.

We're told to stay home and socially isolate ourselves so we don't make the situation worse.

It would have bothered you to have to do what we're doing now. You were always such an outgoing, social person. You always wanted to hear the latest stories, the latest news, the latest silly pratfall somebody in town did. 

But you would never complain about the situation, would you?  You understood duty, and your responsibility toward others. You always found ways to make do. You would have in this situation, too.  I try to use all that as a guide for me to get through this mess.  

You lived through tough times, too. You endured the Great Depression and World War II. You always told all kinds of colorful stories about those times. You'd acknowledge the difficulties during those years, but barely. 

Instead, you focused on the life, the color, the humor. You talked about how sometimes, you'd indulge yourself by watching  a film at the Joy Theater in West Rutland during the Depression. Or tell a funny story about how Mrs. Reczek got busted for moonshining during Prohibition.  You'd tell us about the leaders, like FDR, who shepherded us through the rough times. 

And you cherished the memory of World War II, finally ended, as you and your mates were serenaded by the song "Sentimental Journey" as you sailed home into Boston Harbor. 

Your style is a road map on how to get through our times.  I'm taking notes on how we are all coping through the current crisis, how humor and compassion like yours is helping people get through this now. 

All through life, at your tavern, Red's Place, you always knew to surround yourself with good, fun, kind and down to earth people.   Sometimes they were raucous, and they always made us laugh.  You know the type. Friends like Julia Redington, Clay and Jeanie Burney, Larry Carrara and all the rest. You kept each other grounded. Sane. In good humor. You taught me that's the way to do it. It's a good lesson for all of us. 

Down here on Earth, we can't get together now in a bar like Red's Place. At least for the moment. But we have technology and such, so we can connect and  find ways to laugh, and raise a glass. And try to look on the bright side. 

To blow off steam, or just to keep yourself occupied, you always had outdoor projects. You would build stone walls, clean out the Whipple Hollow Cemetery, or just tinkering around out in the fresh air.  I find myselt doing the same thing, as it works so well. It really clears my mind.  I always feel better after planting more perennial beds, clearing brush, and yes, building stone walls. 

Jeff says hi.  Jeff still keeps telling me how appreciative he is of you because of how accepting and warm you were to him when he came into my life. Also, your embrace of Jeff confirmed that I had chosen well in marrying him. 

That was your M.O. anyway.  You held tight to anybody from any background who was a good person. You rejected the haters.  It's a great way to go through life, as I keep discovering, over and over again. Thanks for instilling that in me!

Jeff's mom just joined you up there a month or so ago. I hope Jeff's parents, Don and Lois, are able to swing by to wish you well today. But I guess everything is pretty well up there, isn't it?

So a toast. Only a select few will understand what I'm saying, but I raise a glass in your honor and to you: Nice Driveway! 

Love, Matt