My Real Dad

I had just come in from swimming and over heard Mom on the phone.

"Sure,"'she said, " You find me a date for New Year's eve and I'll come to Connecticut for the holiday."

Rolling my eyes I marched off to my room. "Great!" I mumble to myself, 'Now Mom's dating guys from another state! It wasn't as if there weren't enough men in Florida for her to date; and she didn't seem to be having any trouble finding them. In the year and a half since my parents' divorce Mom had dated often.

A few times Mom had brought her dates home with her, and there had been nothing special about any of them. As far as I could tell they were all jerks, Dumb, fat and really gross. Just last week, on my thirteenth birthday, she brought one home and I hadn't been feeling good. So when I didn't greet him she yelled at me and sent me to my room for the rest of the night.

A few weeks later I opened the door to her bedroom to use her batheroom to get ready for school and fond her in bed with some fat, hairy guy that was gros!. I screamed and slammed the door. So to say I wasn't thrilled about Mom newest prospects, was an understatement.

It wasn't long before Aunt Sue found Mom a date for New Year's. They exchanges phone numbers and soon he began calling her. After a month of his almost nightly phone calls I became curious and one night I got to the phone before Mom could so I could "meet" this guy that made my mom smile and even laugh!

That night after talking to Sid I felt good inside. I was smiling too! He sounded happy to talk to me. He asked about my school day and remarked on how Mom said I was such a good swimmer 'cause I praticed every day that summer. My Father never called me. He never talk to me. He never spoke! to me. After that, I often reached for the phone first just to talk to him for a moment.

As I laid in bed several weeks later I recalled the story I over heard Mom telling her girlfriends one night a few months ago:

She'd gone to a Luncheon in Springtime at the house of a friend. The friends sister was joining them, and she was a Physic. Mom didn't really believe in that kind of stuff, and so she listened to the Sister's reading of her with skepticism at first; until the woman began to hit a few key points in Mom's life; without any previous knowledge of her.

"I see that you attract Older people in your life?" The Sister stated.

"I do.Yes. I seem to enjoy the company of oler people." Mom agreed.

"You are not happy. You are holding a lot of anger, hate." Mom staired.

You will meet a man, not form here; but from another state." She tell her.

"He will be between the age of 42 and 45, and he will be your One."She takes a sip of her tea.

"This will not happen until the hate...the anger is gone." Mom scoffed and thought, 'I'm never marring again.'

I repeated the Sister's list in my head...Not from here...42 to 45, Cheyenne sounded old! and True Love! and I fell asleep dreaming of love.

As the weeks continued, getting closer to Christmas, and New Years' when Mom would be in Connecticut, I was praying that dreams come true.

My father had never been a dad. My parents had been married for sisteen years, and in that time I had never seen them hug or kiss; I knever heard them argue. I never heard...

My father was always too busy in his own life, and never had, or made time for me. And maybe more sad is that I didn't care. I was scared of him, and knew I was safer away from him. My father didn't know anything about me. He didn't know I loved to swim, or how good I had become, He didn't know I loved the outdoors, and dreamed of travel the world, the way he did. He never huged me, or kissed me, or tucked me into bed. He never game me a special name!

Last night when I answered the phone Cheyenne said, "Hi Puddinghead." He gave me a nicknake. It's like, it was mine! I was something special. To everyone I am Debbie, to Him, I was Puddinghead.

He sent a silly picture of a frog! Mom had asked him to send her a picture of him and I laughed when I saw the picture of the frog.

"So why'd you send Mom a picture of a frog?" I ask him

"Well this way when she sees me she'll know she kissed the right frog and I'm her prince." We both began to laugh. It felt so good to laugh. It felt so righ in my stomach.

I began telling him things he could do to make Mom fall in love with him; If you hire a housekeeper that would make her real happy. Her favorite color is Blue, she loves Carnations, and she's a real good cook. I wanted Mom to fall in love with him because I already had! to me, he was Dad.

Their long distance 'dating' continued over the next two months as Mom prepared to go to Connecticut to meet him. He would call her several times a day, and I looked forward to when I could talk to him. As christmas neared, it was all I wanted.

January 4, 1978

When the phone rang gram answered it. I sat at the kitchen table having a glass of cool water and some cookies before bed. I had gone to state at my mom's parents house when she went to Connecticut because my grams needed my help. I listened intently, and watched Grams face, I knew it was something good.I bursted with excitemtn when Gram turned to me.

'Debbie, Your mom wants to talk to you."

'Hi, Mom." I said. "How's Connecticut?"

'Well honey, We, Cheyenne and I have something to ask you." She paused. 'What would you say if I told you he wants to marry me and bring you kids to Connectisut?"

before Mom could finish, I was jumping up and down yelling, "YES! YES! YES!"

Mom returned the end of that week and we got to the business of packing up, saying our good byes we were moving to Connecticut!

Early Saturday morning on February 4th, 1978, My mom, my twelve year old brother, Kenny, and eight year old sister, Christine and I stepped onto the Greyhound bus in downtown St. Petersburg. Although it was winter, it was a balmy day in Florida as a warm breeze blew, filling the air with the tast of salty, sea air. I took a deep breath, knowing that this might be the last time I would smell that scent for a long, long time.

Every seat on the bus had been filled. Mom and Christine sat a few rows in front of Kenny and me. As the bus pulled out into the street, I waved good-bye to my grandparents standing on the sidewalk, and waving us off. I was filled with excitement, fear and sorrow as the bus moved down the street and onto the highway. With a heart filled with memories of the life I was leaving behind, I thought about the last time I had been in Connecticut.

I was five years old, and Christine had just been born. Our father honked on the horn of the School bus he aquired and turned into a makeshift RV. He was announcing his arriveal. He had come to take us home, to Florida. I looked out the window, excited. Snow covered the ground, and the hill across the street where the new snow had begun to cover the tracks where my brothers, Wayne and Kenny and I had gone sledding for the last time earlier.

It was so cold, we couldn't stay long. I remember not being sad about leaving the cold, but I would miss the fun we had with the snow. I smiled at the memory;but still wasn't looking forward to the cold winter weather.

I though for some time about all the things I was going to miss about lifing in Florida. I would miss swimming all year round, spending weekends at Gram's making Fudge, and chocolate Chip cookings, and melt in the mouth bread. I would miss going to the park, or the beach, and tubbing. But It was time to start making the positive list about moving to Connecticut! I was so excitet to finally meet my Dad.

By the time our bus pulled into Washington, D.C. There were reports on the raido of a bad storm that was heading towards New England, and they just upgraded it to a Blizzard. I was running a fever. I had a bit of a stomach ache when we left St. Pete, but as we road, I began feeling worse. We had a slight lay over in D.C. and we ran around trying to find something I could take, but no stores that where open had anything.

We got back on the bus, and I pressed my hot, feaveish head against the window, closed my eyes a slept.

It was dark when we made it to New York Central Station. The streets were full of snow, plow trucks with their plows scrapping across the roads doing little to clear the snow as it fell, and fell. I watched the snow flakes melting, sliding down the window from the heat of my forehead. Mom worried about continuing on. She had wanted to take me to a medical center, but because of the storm it was impossible, and I was determined to continue on. I was dreaming of my new life. Of Dad waiting for us, and I wanted, NO! Needed to see him before I died.

We transferred busses, settling in, and continued our slow, cautious ride to Connecticut. The bus was mostly empty, just six other peopl along with us. I dozed off and on, watching the never ending fall of snow. So much snow, I thought, you could see beyond it.

It was after eight when the Greyhound bus pulled to a stop in front of Jimmy's Smoke Shop. A little store wedged between two taller, older, brick buildings; It's light, bilnked in the night, berely visable throught he falling snow.

The doors to the bus opened. We were the last ones on. Mom lifted a sleeping Christine and stepped off the bus, Kenny grapped our bag and walked to the door and out into the night chill. Standing, I held the tops of the seats and made my way to the door. Lifting my head I looked into the smiling face of a dark, baulding, barrel of a man all trussed up like a snowman.

I took a step down; he opened his arms wide; I took another step down.

"Hi Puddenhead! I didn't think you were ever gonna make it." He smiled.

"Hi, Daddy." I whispered and fell forward, passing out in his arms. Dad visited me every day during the week that follwed as I was hospitalize with pneumonia.

Mom and Dad married just six weeks later. He was the love of our life.

Your Puddinghead.