Make That a Bud Luddite!

My daughter Jessica has outed me as a closet Luddite and my friend Robin has defined it for those who are unfamiliar with the term. Although it's been years since I destroyed any looms, I still harbor a disdain and probably a little fear of new technology. I got my first cell phone last year and I still can't figure out how to text. I'm trying to update my way of thinking and as Jess pointed out, I've still only advanced as far as 1998. It may be because we were a lot more innocent then. We were at peace. The country was prospering. I just started a new career, and the biggest problem in the news was whether or not Bill Clinton got his joint waxed! Oh the good old days!!! As I try to advance from the bloodiest century in human history to this brave new world, I offer this small piece of advise. Guard your looms carefully because.... I'm Back!!!!

September 20 is my fathers birthday. He would have been 89! He died July 30, 2007 and not a day goes by that I don't think of him. I did the eulogy at his wake and rather than do the religious or somber thing, I wrote an essay that I read for the assembly. Here is most of it.

David Patrick Drew
Sept 20 1919 – July 30 2007

This is not really a speech or a eulogy. Its an essay about My Dad

My Dad was the youngest of 13 children in a traditional Irish Catholic family. His favorite sibling was his sister Julia. His least favorite was his brother Jerry. He said he was mean to him. 8 of his brothers and sisters died of various childhood diseases or accidents. The most notable being Jerry who died on Christmas eve after falling while jumping on his parents bed. Although terribly tragic at the time, this incident became a valuable teaching tool for my 5 kids (DON’T JUMP ON THE BED OR YOU’LL END UP LIKE GREAT UNCLE JERRY)
My Dad was always a baseball fan. His favorite team was the NY Giants. He used to tell me about his favorite players like Bill Terry (the last National League player to hit 400), Mel Ott (who hit 511 home runs on the traditional training regimen of beer, cigars, and hot dogs) and his favorite of all, pitcher Carl Hubbell. My Dad was there at the 1934 all star game at the Polo Grounds when Hubbell struck out 5 future Hall of famers in succession (Ruth, Gehrig, Foxx, Simmons, Cronin). My Dad hated the Yankees but he still idolized Babe Ruth. One of his favorite stories was about the time his father called him one summer day in 1929 and said borrow a nickel from your mother, take the subway and meet me at the players entrance to Yankee Stadium. When he got there he asked a ticket vendor where the player’s entrance was. The vendor quipped “they’re signing them young these days”. He always laughed when he told that part.

My Dad’s father knew a guy who arranged them to meet the Yankees. He got a baseball autographed by the entire team (Ruth, Gehrig, Lazzeri , Dickey, Ruffing etc). When he first told me this story I excitedly said “Where’s the ball??”
In those days the kids rarely had a real baseball to play with so he took it down to the field and he and his friends played with it until the cover wore off! That was my Dad.


Much later I asked him who the guy was that got them in to meet the Yankees. It was the megaphone guy. He was the dude who announced the lineups before they had a PA system. I said ”how did your father know him?” He said his dad met him in some bar. That was my Grandfather, and that was my Dad too.

My Dad was a great ballplayer. He played for a semi pro team in the late 1930s and was scouted by several Major League teams. At the end of the 1939 season at the age of 19, he was invited to spring training the following year with the Pittsburgh Pirates. He put his dream on hold for a year because that fall, he was drafted into the army. We were still at peace and the service was for only 1 year but shortly after, with the winds of war blowing, President Roosevelt extended the service to 2 years. My Dad said that 1940 was the only year he ever voted for a Republican (Wendell Wilkie). In December 1941, with less than a month to go in the army, WWII began and the president declared that all servicemen would be in for the duration of the war. He was discharged after 6 years in the army. He fought in North Africa, Sicily and Italy. He was part of the allied force at the battle of Anzio Beach, his dream of playing pro ball was over.

When I was a kid, when we would have a catch, My Dad would take the glove off his left hand, put it on his right and throw lefty. He had a wicked curve ball lefty and he could hit better lefty than righty.
He was not naturally ambidextrous. He told me that when he was about 16, he broke his right wrist. A serious injury meant he would lose his spot on the team so he spent that winter teaching himself to throw and hit left handed. Amazing!
That was my Dad.

My Dad was a construction worker but for a time in the late 1960s he was a real estate salesman, selling new homes on weekends. He saved the money he earned (he never said he made money, that would be illegal) and took my Mom and me on a month long trip to Europe. That was my Dad.

My Dad was a social guy. He was a happy person and he was well liked by all. His friends called him Davey. When we visited relatives or attended some event, he would always find an excuse to leave for a while and visit some local tavern. He usually took me with him. No matter where we went, everybody knew him! It was uncanny. From Manhattan to Rockaway to Elmhurst to Westbury to Port Jeff to Riverhead to Babylon, everybody knew him! It was amazing! EVEN in Europe, within minutes, everyone was shaking his hand as if he was their long lost brother! That was my Dad.

My Dad loved Abbott and Costello, Bing Crosby, Harry Truman, and Jack Kennedy. His favorite movies were The Sound of Music and Going My Way. His favorite song was Saloon. He loved Track Meets, especially the Millrose Games. He liked fishing, horseracing, gambling, and shooting pool. (He was good). He liked cigars, meat and potatoes, butter pecan ice cream, egg fu young, and wintergreen life savers.
He liked beer. A lot. That was my Dad.

(At that point, I walked over to his casket, grabbed out a beer I had planted there earlier, cracked it open and took a swig!) I continued:

When I was 19, Magge (my girlfriend at the time) and I discovered we were going to have a baby. We were very nervous when the time came to tell my parents. When we told them, my Dad winked at Magge and said “so, you killed the rabbit”. He then reached across the table, shook my hand and said “congratulations, I didn’t think you had it in you”. He gave Magge a hug and said “welcome to the family”! That was definitely my Dad.

That was 30 years and 5 kids ago.

My Dad had a tradition that on Christmas Eve, he would burn a candle for his brother Jerry who died on Christmas Eve so many years ago. That tradition has continued with my family and hopefully with my children’s families. 3 years ago we added a second candle for my Mom. This year and every year it will be 3.

Good Night Sweet Prince.

Happy Birthday Dad.