Happy Fathers Day! My “Remembrance”

My Dad.

I‘ve written about him many times over the years. Our relationship was complicated, but it also grew and improved right up to the time of his death in 2006.

I have decided that it is only complicated if I let it get complicated. So I have chosen not to let it get complicated. The time for conversation is over. I can talk to him all I want, but the answers I will get back are one sided. They are as valid as if they were written by AI.

So I will take liberties, not prisoners. What’s he going do about it?

My memories are now what I want them to be, and truthfully, he will say whatever I tell him to at this point.

“Dennis, you were always my favourite”.

He always said that.

“This music thing was your best idea. And writing a Substack? Some people will love it, the others can go to ——.”

Aah, thanks Dad. You knew how to tell a good story yourself.

“You are so bright, I called you Son.

Sonny, when you were young……”

Sidney?

“No we never called you Sidney. At one point, you were going to be Sam, after my Father, who most people called Russ, but whose actual name was Samuel Russell.”

So it was Dennis, but where did the Wayne come from?

“Well Son, as good patriotic Canadians in the late 50’s, we had two choices-Wayne or Gordon. All males were named either Wayne or Gordon. At least one of your names had to be Wayne or Gordon. It was mandated by Prime Minister John Diefenbaker. A part of our heritage. Like circumscision. “

But why Dennis?

“Remember that English bird you went out in the late 70’s? She had it right when she told you that the name Dennis was kind of like naming your child Phillip, but not as insipid.”

You remember that Dad?

“No of course not. You are remembering it for me- wholesale!!!! Inside Phillip K. Dick reference. Remember when you gave me his book Confessions Of A Crap Artist? WTF were you thinking, Son? And that rambling letter you sent me and your Mother when you had discovered the beauty of punk rock and reinvention? Once again, what were YOU thinking? “

Hey- wait a minute! I thought I was controlling this conversation.

“Ah, life is fun, Son. Don. David. Derrrrrik!!! Heart attack-kak-kak”

Oh no, the AI memory widget is gone kablewy.

Let me recalibrate it.

Ok.

Now I think that I have it right.

“I loved it when you used the photo of your Mom and I on your Jazzmanian Devils release Groovy Thing. Especially how you didn’t crop the drink or the cigarette. It’s one of the few photos where we look alike Son.”

Yes, Dad- we do resemble each other in this shot. A lot.

“It’s amazing how the new technology can make the photo look so “current.” “

With the AI, we can put actual words in your mouth, Dad. If I had an old phone message or some actual recording of your voice, I could have you saying just about anything- whether you said it or not.

I updated some pictures of your Dad, too. I see him in you, and you in him. Also Grandma. That was before the Evaporating Drambuie or the whip cream that I whipped into butter. Even before the time Grandma chased Grandpa all over the house in Aberdeen with a dish towel.

“ You remember Grandpa in Poet-land, I mean in Portland. He said corn did not belong in a pancake. Pancakes were pancakes, and corn was Corn, and never the Twain shell meet. Nor mix. Nor touch. Then he went on a rant, and denounced Trudeau for the coward he is.”

New Trudeau or old Trudeau?

“ Hell if I know. This is your fantasy kiddo. Pick a Trudeau. Pick any Trudeau.

Fuddlesticks.

Fudgesicle.

Fuddy Duddy.

Augie Dog and Doggie Daddy.

Ah Pops. Here we are at the end of our post. Should we end with a song?

“ Sure Son. How about our favourite song.”

Sure Dad.

Our favourite song.