Dead Dad

Larry Teshara, Mr. T,  Dad

My dad, by Jesse Teshara

He used to say “my day, by Larry Teshara” at the dinner table.

He was Mr. T, like his dad before him, (both) before the A-team guy on tv.

We watched red and blue teams on tv together, long before American politics adopted it.

We played Frick and Frack, when I was little.

He would cook up hibachi barbecue, every once in awhile.  And make a special jelly toast dessert.  He made Sloppy Joes.  We went to Giants games.  He taught me to hate LA, and Tommy Lasagna.  He liked Demolition Derbies, so we went to the one at the Dixon May Fair.

I was adopted at age 4.  He picked me up in his black 1930 Model A Ford, named Ozzie.

I don’t know which came first, the car or the singer (Osbourne).

He called me his “Number 1 Son”.  

 He also said, “Only 2 people in the world can call me “Dad”

He was a father figure to many, I guess.

Greg and I both have Lawrence as our middle name.

I was in Cub Scouts, pack 351, the pack started by Larry’s dad, my grandfather, Ben Teshara.

My dad was a Scoutmaster of Troop 351, but disbanded the troop when he left it, which I thought was kind of weird.   

I once asked my dad where he got the story for Murphy’s Gulch.

He said, “that’s a hell of a question.”   That was the only answer.

I confess I used to wonder why grandpa paved over most of the back yard, too.

Anyway,

Blue cards!  Get on with it!  Murphy’s Gulch!  Camp Commissioner.  

The Larry Teshara-Art Sawada friendship grove.

3 chairs for camp royaneh.   The m and m game.  Uncle Zeke.

Troop 351 reunions.  Unlike any other troop, as far as I am aware.

He travelled to Europe, with scouting, too, I think.

He was a Vigil sash member of Order of the Arrow, and won the Silver Beaver, like his dad.

To the end, he did scouting.  He volunteered processing bay area Eagle Scout applications.

I got to be little zeke, and king cairn, and a special kid at camp, doing summer math problems in the chief’s room, hearing him prepare for uncle zeke with the radio in the morning.  He had a file of jokes.  He took his humor seriously.  

He taught me how to drive.  He admired my willingness and lack of trepidation in trying new things, like going to the Scout Jamboree.  

He talked alot.  He could make a joke or a story very long and detailed.

He said he thought of me, when coiling the garden hose.  Kinda weird, but true.  Detail-oriented.  He drove me home after I had my accident.  Chrysler.  Saturn.  Honda.

Uncle Jim confiscated firecrackers.

My dad confiscated a switchblade knife.

I got to play with both.

When I visited my Godfather, Dick Zonca, Larry’s accountant, in Santa Cruz, I experienced a “soul rotation”, what you might hear referred to as “get out of my face”.  No lie.  I kind of became my father.  Very strange.   Soul Rotation is an album by the dead milkmen.  My grandpa, Larry’s Dad, was a milk man.   Which is why I bought my first DM cassette.   Also, I was into Led Zeppelin, and the DM spoofed Physical Graffiti with Metaphysical Graffiti.

Anyway,

Tesla, Lariat trucks, Last Week Tonight, Mr. T, Larry David, PT Cruiser, and Will.i.am.

Even God the Father (lol)

He once said to someone who said, Gawd! “no I’m not”, which was funny.

But he often said “love” on the phone, to me, not just to Peggy,

Which I confess I didn’t feel comfortable saying in return.

He loved and was loved, widely, 

He made a massive difference in the lives of many, many people, in school, in scouting, in my family, and maybe even politics.  He introduced Al Gore before a speech he gave in Burlingame.  He made occasional trips to DC.  He taught all 3 citizenship merit badges (community, nation, world).

He was a drummer.   For “old people’s music”, (to dance to) not rock and roll.  The ratchet we used at baseball games was from then.  We played wiffle ball at the park.  I read some of his books, like Charlie Brown (with the kite wrapped in the tree), or Mr. M (sex tips), or All You Ever Wanted to Know about Sex (but were afraid to ask).   And Black Like Me, which was his favorite book, he said.   I was into a book of Indian sign language, when I was a kid, too.   He read to me, which I loved.  Books like James and the Giant Peach, The Pushcart War, Dr. Boox, Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator, little golden books, choose your own adventure stories, a book with a hero named Jesse, and of course The Night Before Christmas.  He was a generous Santa.  He got me into collecting aluminum cans for recycling, back before curbside pickup, for money.  He printed up flyers I made to put in everyone's mailbox.   We would go to Reynolds.  I remember the steel 7-up cans.  A guy near Reynolds sold fence windmills out of his garage (we bought one, a chopping lumberjack).  I liked his records of Flip Wilson (the devil made me buy this dress), and Tijuana Brass, and how he transformed the house for holidays, especially Christmas and Halloween.

He bought lots of toy cars and toiletries etc for sale at the San Jose flea market.   We would wake early and get a spot, in the yellow Vanagon, to sell stuff.   If ever I needed toothpaste, shavers, shaving cream, he would have some in storage for me.  Canned soups, too.

He was frugal.  He was good with numbers.  He bought the house he grew up in, from his parents.  He trusted Dick Zonca, my godfather, as his accountant.   He joined the Catholic Church as an adult.  I went to Davis instead of Berkeley partly to be farther away from my parents.  There was a difficult home dynamic.  Mom stretched her arms out like Jesus and dad put his hands on his head making an Eye of Sauron (lol).   I, of course, am crazy.   He got into it with Stephen Heuser.  I saw him get angry at his brother Tom.  I don’t know why he got mad at him, either.  And mom.

He liked sweets, like Ritter chocolates, See’s nuts and chews, it’s it’s, York patties, and peanut brittle.   He really tore into ribs.  Mom says he didn’t like his body.  He wasn’t always obese.  He liked watching Pickers.  We watched an episode together, our last time together.  He “liked watching intelligent people talk,” such as parliament on BBC.   He loved Laurel and Hardy.  He would occasionally turn into a completely different person, in different settings.  It was weird.

He died on 8/19.  H and S are the 8th and 19th letters.  So I think of BHS, where he was principal, for some years.  He went to Lincoln high school, in SF, himself.  He took Chinese there.  I went to one of the dances at BHS :-).   Dad knew a magician, and I got to see how he did all his tricks, when I was young.  Besides Camp Royaneh, our family went to Camp Mather and Mountain Home Ranch.  We played ping-pong.  He was good at it.  I went a bunch of times with him to Disneyland.  We also took a scenic ride on Amtrak to Reno.   I enjoyed milkshakes at Pat's in Guerneville.  He made himself a historian of Royaneh, and took lots of photographs.  We have many albums.  He loved cars.  I went with him to the Harrah's collection, and a couple concours d' elegance.  

He bought lots of flowers for Peggy. 

A friend of his told me he was a mensch.

He had love for scouting, schools, and scalawags :-)

There was kind of a mystique about him never getting a common cold.   Like he was immune.  Like he was a scientific curiosity.   He had the secret.  No need for Kleenex.  But lymphoma got him.  He chose cremation.  I told mom I had no need to see his corpse.

I will miss him.  He will be missed.