Vote for a Man Who...

 It's the weekend after elections, so here's a flyer from his Selectman run.

VOTE FOR A MAN WHO 

IS NOT A TOWN EMPLOYEE

WILL NOT MAKE POLITICAL DECISIONS

WILL MAKE COMMON SENSE DECISIONS

WILL HAVE A GENUINE CONCERN FOR PUBLIC OPINION

 

Next Week is Elections, So...

Here's the image that was put on buttons when my father campaigned for Town Selectman of Bellingham Massachusetts in 1981. 

I was only a kid, so this time was a blur for me of him being out of the house campaigning for things I couldn't fathom. 

What I do remember clearly was how the campaign culminated in a mini-auto parade around town one weekend as my sister and I rode in the capped back of the family truck that took the lead as my Mom to the PA system telling townsfolk to vote for Roger Parenteau.  

Voting night on May fourth of that year ended with a waiting party downstairs while I tried to sleep upstairs. My Mom came upstairs to tell me he had lost. 

I do remember one other thing. Those buttons of my father? I brought one to school, which caused a bit of a to-do. In my defense, my Mego Captain America doll--I mean action figure--lost it's shield and needed a replacement. 

To mark Father's Day, here's my Dad with my Aunt Lorraine as kids. Hope to scan more family photos this summer.

Jumping In

Continuing to revisit the scrapbook I made for my parents back in the nineties. This is the "Sport Parachutist Log" my Dad used very briefly, recording two jumps from 1966, both on the fifteenth of May. Mom tried to schedule a parachute jump for my Dad for when he turned sixty. Unfortunately, his insurance would have never given coverage should any accidents have happened, and the plan was scrapped at the last minute.

The Crash my Father Survived

Last week I dug up my parents' scrapbook after the death of my two uncles. I made this scrapbook years ago because my parents never cared about organizing the majority of their photos and memorabilia. 

This article is about my Dad's car crash. 

His own typewritten notes indicate it's a Woonsocket Call piece from May 28, 1964.

My Dad hadn't turned twenty-one yet. It was nine years before I was born. Most of my parent's newspaper clippings, including weddings and obituaries, were at best stored away in envelopes. 

Other articles documenting his Selectman run and his other local endeavors seem to be lost to the wind. 

This was the only piece my Dad ever had laminated. He was proud of walking away from this.

New Home

This ceramic tree was a gift from my Dad to Mom during their first Christmas together married. My mom thinks he got it from someone at work. A music box was added, but it hasn't worked for decades. Thanks to my girlfriend's Dad for fixing the light socket inside. It needs some more color and maybe a lighter bulb, but it's good to put it out in my home after years of not being used.

Happy Father's Day

Kicking back is what my father would probably be doing if he were alive today.

My Friday Evening Music

This song is the hardest one to listen to. Kristen and I used to make fun of Dad whenever he tried to sing along to it. My Dad did not have a singing voice by any means. He surely knew it but would randomly sing the "I can make you mine" chorus at random parts of the day whether the music was playing or not. Every now and them I feel bad about making fun of him now. 

My Friday Morning Music

My sister and I would crack up to this song, the crooning of "lo-o-o-o-o-ove" making us pretend we were riding up and down a series of imaginary hills like we were riding a rollercoaster. My parents barely showed patience with the two of us. It was tolerated, ultimately. Probably because it gave my sister and me a focus other than fighting each other.

My Monday Morning Music

This week marks what would have been my father's eightieth birthday. This week, I've picked a music from the Everly Brothers, his favorite music group. While I have my favorites, the songs selected are the ones I remember listening to (and making fun of) with my sister in the back of my parents' car while they drove off to the Lincoln Mall in Rhode Island or who knows where else on a Saturday evening.

The Poem I Always Post on Days Like These

First published in Spoonful, later in Patron Emeritus.

Forgot to post this on his birthday.

Your Weekly Dose of God

One more music selection. This one from the Doobie Brothers, "Jesus is Just Alright."



This is the month of my Dad's birthday, and it's a week before Father's Day. That might be why I keep thinking of my Dad in regards to this song.

During summer and winter breaks from college, my Dad got me a job at the plastics factory where he was Vice President of Purchasing. I would ride up with him in the morning, and he would let me listen to WBCN's morning show The Big Mattress with Charles Laquidara. On the way home after WBCN's 5:05 Funnies with Mark Parenteau (no relation), it was his turn with the dial turned to sports radio station WEEI.

Sometimes my Dad couldn't help but comment on the morning music, and if The Police's "Can't Stand Losing You" came on, he would always comment how much he hated it.

"All they're doing is singing the same words over and over," he'd say.

Some of you might be thinking, Yeah, that's what songs do, but I understood what he meant with that song's incessant chorus. It wasn't my favorite either, and to this day, I can't hear that song without thinking of Dad giving both thumbs down while driving.

It's also why I think of "Jesus is Just Alright" and am pretty sure my Dad wouldn't have liked it either.

Dad Pic

When my sister had me help with her video project years ago, it meant scanning and/or gathering hundreds of photos. This is one of the many photos I used with my father and uncle. There's a lot more I would like to scan. I started organizing photos into albums and even did a scrapbook back in the late nineties. I can't find any of these now due to Mom's house constantly being reorganized over the last two decades. I hope to come across them soon and share more family history.

Edit: When I first posted this, I originally identified the older gentleman as my grandfather. Showing the picture to my Mom this morning, whe identified it as my Uncle Norman, who I never remembered having hair! I guess that was a popular haircut among the Fraco-American crowd. 

Happy Fathers' Day

I already posted a poem in the "voice" of my father earlier this month for my late Dad's birthday. Here's one I wrote years ago about my actual dead father. It was part of a 30 zombie poems in thirty days challenge, three years after my father passed away.

A new resolution will be to try and get at least one more poem about my father published. I tried for a while but stopped when it got to frustrating. Now I have to redouble my efforts.

Happy Birthday Dad

Here's one of the last published poems I wrote for my Dad. Published in my online zine Spoonful and later in my book Patron Emeritus. Photo taken by Su Red aka Susan Lilly. Out of all the photography contributions, hers was the most "Woonsocket " for my purposes.

Today's #TBT

The prayer my father wrote up during his last Thanksgiving with the family eleven years ago. Found it this morning still folded up as if it was a speech he didn't want anyone to know he wrote ahead of time.

Happy Birthday

My dad would have been seventy-five today.

I wish I had written better poetry when he was alive.

Dad, Ten Years Later

Today marks the ten year anniversary of my father's death.

I'm moving forward from that revelation today, though I'm not sure how.

Happy Birthday, Roger Parenteau

Hey, Dad. What do you think of your son now?

My Dad

A French Connection on the Polish American Club's team.

A Facebook friend who is a member of a Facebook group based on my hometown turned my attention to this newspaper clipping of My Dad in a group shot with his Bellingham softball team. Some of my earliest memories are of watching him play on the field.