A flag for my father

Shifting the Sun


When your father dies, say the Irish,
you lose your umbrella against bad weather.
May his sun be your light, say the Armenians

When your father dies, say the Welsh,
you sink a foot deeper into the earth.
May you inherit his light, say the Armenians.

When your father dies, say the Canadians,
you run out of excuses.
May you inherit his sun, say the Armenians.

When your father dies, say the French,
you become your own father.
May you stand up in his light, say the Armenians.

When you father dies, say the Indians,
he comes back as the thunder.
May you inherit his light, say the Armenians.

When your father dies, say the Russians,
he takes your childhood with him.
May you inherit his light, say the Armenians.

When your father dies, say the English,
you join his club you vowed you wouldn't.
May you inherit his sun, say the Armenians.

When your father dies, say the Armenians,
your sun shifts forever.
And you walk in his light.


Diana Der-Hovanessian

AUBURN, Mass.— A five-hour round trip and a heart-warming graduation party over the weekend kept my mind off the conspicuous absence of my late father on this special day.

If you are a father who has been a guiding light to your children and made sacrifices for the sake of your union, you deserve this one-day tribute — Father’s Day — that rolls around each June. But any more than 24 hours of celebrating fatherhood and most dads lose interest and find it annoying. They want to go back to sports page or the last two innings of a Red Sox game. 

A one-day fuss is all we need.

Good fathers really don’t rely on an at-a-boy or a slap on the back for a job well done. Good food, a tie, socks or a trip to a local eatery will satisfy the most dedicated fathers.

We are not looking accolades, but a good beer always brings a smile to our worried faces.

It is a tough job, but we are obligated to do it — and it is a one-shot deal in our short lives. Good fathers know this and that’s why they want to get it right. There are no do-overs.

To fathers who don’t take an interest or simply ignore their children all together, then you should be water-boarded by people who are morally bankrupt like yourself.

I have no respect for abusive or disappearing dads who don’t understand the responsibility of raising a child they created. When fathers fail because they don’t give a damn, we all pay for their stupidity and their callous nature toward their children.

Society bears the brunt when a precious child is ignored. The human cost is high for all over us thanks to distant dads.

My father was a highly intelligent man who tried to be there during those watershed moments in his children's lives. Sure, he had faults, but he was there for us. He was the guy bringing up the rear and made sure there was food on the table and clothes on our back. He worked hard as a schoolteacher and coach and kept a marriage together for nearly half a century.

That’s why I missed the gray-haired man who gave so much to his family, community and country. I wanted to see him working the room and talking to relatives about sports and this crazy, mixed-up world at Saturday’s party. He died nearly eight months ago of Alzheimer's, and there is not a moment I don’t think of him, especially on my the first Father’s Day without him.

My father had the kind of loyalty that you never see in our Congress — where 535 guys and gals run the show with the “what’s in it for me” attitude.

That is why he never considered being a politician. Telling the truth and being truthful with his students and players was his way of life.

I am lucky I have a son to remind me of my father.

Two weeks ago, I ordered a flag case for the flag that draped his coffin when he was buried with full military honors on Nov. 15, 2014. My son helped me write the engraved inscription. Albert John Blasi served with the Big Red One — a unit that served with valor during D-Day at Utah Beach on June 6, 1944 — during the occupation of Germany in the 1950s.

He wasn’t at the party on Saturday and there was no need to call him to wish him happy Father’s Day on Sunday. His house is sold and McClure Street in Revere, Mass., seems empty to me.

But my dad’s spirit and smile were present in the faces of my nieces and nephews, and of course, my sisters.

He lives on in them and I was lucky to have known him for 55 years.

All I can do to honor him is continue to be a good father and carry on his loving legacy of commitment to family. That was his inheritance to me and it is worth a small fortune to any good father.

Father tries to know best

No man can possibly
know what life means, what the
world means, until he has a child and loves it. And
then the whole universe changes
and nothing will ever again seem
exactly as it seemed before.

- Lafcadio Hearn

POLAND, Maine - No tie, shirt or money. I was not presented with a power tool, a lifetime subscription to "Sports Illustrated" or served breakfast in bed.

I didn't even get to sleep late. I left a wake-up call for 8:30 a.m.

I was given a thoughtful card and a shout-out from my wife, wishing me happy Father's Day as I stumbled toward the coffee pot Sunday morning.

All I requested was a homemade strawberry pie (Terri can put Martha Stewart to shame in the kitchen), a long hike in the woods with my son, and a swim at one of the local lakes of my choosing.

To top off the evening, we treated ourselves to an ice cream. After all, as a loving, hard-working father and husband, I think I have earned it.

I also did the cooking because I am the best chef in the house. And Terri certainly doesn't mind me commandeering our kitchen to cook dinner.

Being a father is the toughest and the most satisfying profession in the world. Fathers, like moms, only get one take to get it right when raising children. There are no do-overs, and what parents say and do will affect their children the rest of their lives.

That's a colossal obligation, and unfortunately, there are parents who do not live up to those great expectations, and all of society, especially the child, pays that awful price.

I love the responsibility of being the patriarch of my family. I feel like godfather Don Corleone without the violence. I welcomed the enormous responsibilities of raising a child, and I believe I have it done it well, and I think my son's kindness reflects our love for him.

I was present in the delivery room when Anthony made his entrance. I wore surgical clothes when he was delivered by C-section. No, I didn't faint because the doctors knew what they were doing, and a little blood doesn't bother me.

I cried as I cut the umbilical cord. My dad thought I was nuts when I decided to watch the whole procedure unfold. Well, I am nuts, but that's a subject for another blog. 

And I thought my dad really knew me.

Anthony was placed in my arms. I noticed he had a full head of hair. I told him to get a job. He just looked at me and smiled. I trembled as I held him, but I was not frightened at being the caretaker of a human life.

I knew nine months ago that I wanted the job.

Terri, who had to do all the hard work of carrying a child to term, was in pain. She was given pain killers. I wanted a valium to ease my nerves. Watching a delivery and the huge sacrifices women make to deliver a healthy child over nine months makes all moms heroic figures.

But I believe it still takes two to raise a child. Parents make a huge contribution to the world when we raise a responsible human being. 

It is our sworn duty, and that contract between child and parents should last a lifetime.

For the next two days, I resided at Maine Medical Center in Portland, learning how to care for my newborn son. My feet still hadn't touched the ground after his arrival. I was on a natural high, and I couldn't wait to hold him throughout the day.

My father asked: "Who is going to take care of your son during the day." I said, "I am, dad. Who else."

He was astonished, but I was not surprised by his look. Stay-at-home dads (I worked nights) in my father's generation were rare.

For the next six years, I was Anthony''s guide during the day shift. Terri took over when she got home in the afternoon. Day care was out of the question for our son.

Anthony and I went to libraries, visited other children, and toured museums. TV was limited and video games were a no-no. There are no video games in this house to this day. Cable television also got the heave-ho.

Some would call me cruel, but I really hate TV.

This Sunday, Anthony took a long hike with his old man at Range Pond. We talked about everything during our two-mile journey around the pristine lake. I am amazed that he still enjoys my company.

Hey, every day I wake up and see my family standing before me makes me realize why I really enjoy my job.

After all, every day is Father's Day. Just take a good look at your family.