Musings About My Father on What Would Have Been His 75th Birthday

I have mentioned on previous postings on Facebook and elsewhere that I didn’t have a close relationship with my father, William Lester Baker, who passed away at the age of 59 in 2002 and would have turned 75 years old today. It wasn’t that I had a bad relationship with him – it’s just that a) he was a hard man to get close to and b) he was on the road for much of my childhood delivering Fords in the Midwest and the Northeast for  Automobile Transport Incorporated.

We shared some things – some of my musical tastes comes from him, although most of it comes from my mom, Norma Jean Baker. I turned him onto Monty Python and Benny Hill, and he really surprised me by enjoying that immensely. The activities that I liked to do growing up like shooting guns and arrows and playing pool were through him.

Now the fact that he was not my biological father had little to do with our distant relationship. Apparently, the “man” who was my biological father was a piece of crap who ended up doing time in Jackson State Prison. My mom told me some information a few years back about him, but it went in one ear and out the other because Bill Baker was and is the only father I will ever know.

As they got older, my parents’ relationship ebbed and flowed and went through hard times but, ultimately, they stayed together until the end, which I was always proud of given how easy divorce has become. as he aged, his body began to break down and he had to give up driving professionally, which I know beat him down inside. But, he never let it show. Working stocking jobs and security jobs instead of what he loved and was good at is the kind of thing that would beat down any man. But he was stoic, and I think that’s where I get being stoic at times, too.

He was cranky, opinionated, and a little behind the times, part of his country upbringing I guess. But he was a good provider for his family and good to me most of the time. I know he’d probably be OK with Donald Trump, and wouldn’t completely trust him, but he would get behind some of what he wants to do. He would certainly be glad that Hillary Clinton lost and happy to have missed the entire Barack Obama presidency.

Every time his birthday rolls around, I get a little sad. Not because he isn’t here anymore, although that’s part of it. It’s because I still owe him one favor, which is to scatter his ashes in Lake Michigan, which was one of his final wishes. So, 15 years later, I still have his ashes in a box in a bag on the top shelf of my closet because I can either never find the time or the money to follow though on this wish. I probably should have scattered his ashes with my mom’s when I did it back in 2008 off the jetty at Surfside Beach in Texas. But, given the sometimes contentiousness of their relationship, keeping them separated might have ultimately made both of them happy.

One day, dad, I will get to Lake Michigan, maybe even stopping by to see my Aunt Judy – his sister – and maybe we can do something for him together. Not anytime soon, but maybe in the near future. I make this promise to you and I hope I can fulfill it. Happy birthday, wherever you are.