Remembering My Father

I would like to remember my father, Alexander Rae Baldwin, Jr. Born October 26th, 1927 in Brooklyn. NY. Died April 15th, 1983 after a battle with cancer.

A graduate of Boys High School in Brooklyn and Syracuse University, he served in the United States Marine Corps and was an expert marksman in riflery. He was honorably discharged for medical reasons after being shot, accidentally, during rifle instruction on Parris Island.

He returned to Syracuse University to attend law school, but dropped out and moved to Massapequa, Long Island, to begin his 28 year career as a public school teacher.

My dad taught "social studies," as they were referred to back then. History, economics, constitutional law, contemporary problems. My father taught them all. He was a much admired teacher during those years. So much so that, twice, the editors of the school yearbook dedicated their editions to him, a tribute normally reserved for faculty that had either died or retired. He coached football at the school. Led a cub scout troop. Coached Little League. And was coach of the Massapequa High School rifle team, which went to the New York State Public High School Athletic Association state riflery championship twice during his career. That honor was nearly always the reserve of upstate, and therefore more rural, schools. For a "downstate" school to win was considered impossible. My father's team won both times.

Years later, doctors informed me that the inhalation of lead dust from working in an unventilated rifle range may have contributed significantly to his death. On Parris Island in 1945, a bullet would not kill him. But bullets eventually did, at the age of 55, from lymph cancer that spread through his body.

As a father, he was tough and uncompromising. With six children, four of them boys, and little extra cash with which to spoil or bribe them, he implemented the "Fear Program." My brothers and I knew that any missteps of ours carried inevitable consequences. But he was more selfless and thoughtful than anyone I have known throughout my life. When my brother Daniel and I found out that local athletic champion Jimmy Luchsinger was teaching tennis at the nearby Marjorie Post Park, we sulked that we could never get the rackets we needed to participate. A day or two later, my dad came home from work and unwrapped two rackets, with the old wooden frames. He handed us the rackets and said, "If you miss one lesson, I'll be very upset with you."

As he did nearly every day I knew him, he switched on Huntley and Brinkley, lit his pipe and read the New York Times and Newsday, cover to cover. As he lay on the couch, I can remember the bottoms of his shoes with holes in them the size of half dollars. The man who would not resole his shoes had given us the rackets. That was my dad.

When he died, a part of me died as well. So many times in my life I could have used his advice. His wake at the local funeral home was mobbed with people. His funeral at our church in Amityville was overwhelming. In the intervening couple of years, I would ride the Long Island Rail Road and, on more than one occasion someone would say, "I had your dad as a teacher and he was a great man." Once in a while one would ask, "How is your dad?" and when I informed them that he had passed, some cried right there on the train.

My own experiences with fatherhood have been...complicated. But I always remember the words of my dad. "Fatherhood is a race between two people," he would say, "where the man always wins the bronze."

For all the fathers out there, biological, step or adoptive; gay or straight; divorced, single or married; rich, poor, unemployed, overworked, good at the barbecue, cuts his own lawn, spoils his kids, wishes he could: Happy Fathers Day. The one day you are awarded the gold.

Okay, the silver.

Comments

[NobleNurse]

Dear Alec,
Your words about your dad are very touching. They stopped and made me appreciate my own dad a little more. Though my relationship with my dad is complicated, I think at times I take for granted the time I have left with him. Thanks again for your thoughts.

[plytimshly]

Hi Alec,

My mother, Sharon Miller, spent a lot of time with your father at recreation playground in Massapequa. I have heard nothing but wonderful stories from her in regard to the sort of man he was. I think it is wonderful that you are remembering him here today.

I also heard lots of stories about her roughing up you and your brother's back then also when she would babysit you, those are always good for a chuckle :)

[Dianekkdi]

Hi Alec,

I understand well the loss of your father. My father died May 15, 1982, he was 48. It too was cancer.
He had been diagnosed 8 years prior. He fought those eight years courageously. He kept his chin up and never forgot how to laugh. He became an Ordained Baptist Minister 3 years before he died. His congregation was impressive. I was so very proud of him.

And here I am tonight, once more facing cancer and death. My sister is on a respirator -- lung cancer, years of cigarettes...If she cannot be weened from the respirator in a week there will be discussions. If she can be weened from the respirator it is a matter of hospice and a month maybe two. She is 57. She will be the first of the seven of us to die.

I wonder, who do I cry for? Our mortality? The passing of our era? I haven't spoken to her in fourteen years. I wouldn't change that you know. I once told my mother, "yes, she my sister. I still love her. But she loves drama, and she loves to meddle and create drama. Let her be my sister far away." But, now she is going. I think I would like to say goodbye, but I'm not sure.

My father is at peace. God Bless Him. God Bless Yours as Well. And, God Bless my sister as she joins them.

[Pandadoll]

So sorry, for your loss. I just lost my Daddy in 2007.
Not a day goes by that I don't long to smell him, feel him, hug him.
We just passed Father's Day....a terrible reminder of what I have lost.
How I remember Daddy.......

Father's Day Wish

Daddy,
If there was one thing I would want you to know,
it would be...

You have always been my very special FATHER –
my KING, my HERO, my ROCK.

Nothing will ever change that for me...in life or in death.
Nothing will ever change. I LOVE YOU!

I loved you before I was born.
I was born FROM your love.

I have ALWAYS felt loved by you,
whether we agree or not....

LOVE has nothing to do with agreeing.....

LOVE goes so much deeper than that and
your love has allowed me to become who I am.

I can be anything, because of you and Mommy......
I just wanted to say THANK YOU for EVERYTHING.......
all the rescues, all the help......ALL THE LOVE.

Remember....NO matter what....I LOVE YOU, TOO!
Written December 5, 2007 - by D.A. Kasimakis

[Tony Iovino]

Mr. Baldwin was my football coach at Massapequa HS (I graduated MHS the same year Alec graduated Berner--our cross-town rival). I have always had a soft place in my heart for Mr. Baldwin. He was square-jawed (think of Alec when he puts on a few pounds), no-nonsense--but he cared for his students and, specifically, his players. He was a tough--but funny-coach. In the winter of my freshman year, I chose not to play a sport. Or thought I did. I can still hear Mr. Baldwin's voice ringing down the hall--"Iovino, c'mere. What's this I hear you aren't playing a Winter sport?" He marched me down to the wrestling room. He wasn't going to have one of his athletes slacking off after football season. In the following years, especially after my mother was killed, he made a point of asking about my Dad and the family--and I know he kept a watchful eye on my siblings.
The folk singer John Gorka said it best--Some forget the kindnesses that others never will. It's been 33 years since I graduated HS--and I remember his kindnesses still.

[emncaity]

Alec, how about you and I and all our friends resolve to be the kind of people whose passing causes acquaintances to shed tears on a train somewhere?

My dad was born a year after yours, and passed on in early '96--a tough little Irishman, horseman, Navy boxer, and the most generous person I've ever met in my life. I could only hope to be half the person he was while he was here. My wife's the same kind of pure-gold kinda person, and that's no accident. I think you, your brothers, and I have been lucky.

[VincentBordini]

Ah you obvious swine in here. I knew some would toss up Alec's incident. See here, this man had the brass to write this and know you would savage him. This angle of using people's nasty divorce records and custody dramas is low rent.

I can't stand the Hollywood culture, but at least they should be afforded the minor dignities of forgiveness when they ask for it. This is a fine post on a site so often filled with divisive drivel.

Three cheers for Alexander Rae Baldwin, Jr. and damn the snipers.

[jjr84]

Your Father's Day post brought back memories of my father who passed away in 1981. Our fathers taught social studies together at Masapequa HS and were good friends. In fact, my mother is godmother to one of your brothers. At any rate, thanks for making me stop and reflect on some old, but cherished memories.

[atinyspeckofdust]

Great blog Alec! And great job in Lymelife. You played a wonderfully in depth version of my father. Thanks for the great work in another great film.

[Lorraine Ortega]

I wasn't really sure that I wanted to read it, but I am so glad that I did. What a moving tribute to your dad!
It's easy to see where your character and integrity come from. Thanks for sharing a piece of your heart with us.

[Cowboylove]

It's is important to know, that as a father you cannot win. The good news is you will not lose either. Your father is right, you will get the bronze - but what an amazing and rewarding thing it is. Nothing else in life comes close. Nothing.

Thank you as always for sharing. You are quite an amazing man - talented, sensitive and fair. Trust that one day your daughter will realize how special you are. And then, Alec, let the good times roll!

[classof76]

Alec, my husband and I both knew your dad. What a great guy he was. Mark played football at Massapequa High with Mr. Baldwin coaching. It was a relationship he treasures, because those years were really tough at home. We've always wanted to tell you how fond we were of him. Maybe you'll see this. I hope so.

[indy100]

Beautifully written Alex. Your love for your father comes through loud and clear. In fact I forwarded your tribute on to a friend who lost her father early this year, and is still attempting to cope with his loss. I know your thoughts and feelings will resonate with her.

As you state, you yourself have had some parenting issues, as did you own dad. There are no perfect fathers, or mothers. We're alll human and we all fail sometimes. The best of us get back up, brush it off and keep on going. THAT'S why you remember your father so lovingly. There is a saying by Emerson that reminds me of my own father (who at 73 is alive and well), and perhaps this is the description of a great father.
"To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded."
HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!

[NYLinda]

Hi Alec......Your words describing memories of your father were very touching. So many of us have wonderful memories of our fathers. As a child growing up in Brooklyn so many happy times were due to my father. He had two daughters he took fishing and to the beach. He taught coin collecting, stamp collecting and the value of hard work. The numerous stories from his own childhood will never be forgotten. He was a dedicated democrat for all the years I can remember and voted for Obama this past November. Father's Day for me was filled with many memories, new and old, since I just lost my father this past January. A very bittersweet day.

Remember one thing, daughters are always closer to their Father's. Your daughter will remember all the times you have spent with her and the memories made together. How much time you spend with her isn't as important as the fun you have when you are together. She will always be Daddy's Girl!

Hope your Father's Day was spent with your special girl.

[Aesthete]

Thanks, Alec, for sharing. I, too, am grateful to my late father for sharing his life with me, making me heir to a rich family oral history going back to 1850. Two and a half weeks ago, an item I wrote about this history was accepted for publication in a major literary journal. I am happy to have had this rather unique dad for a father.