Dad has always been the family photographer, but I have a snapshot in my mind of Dad, sitting in his comfortable chair in front of the TV in his bedroom, watching “Rawhide” “Bonanza” or “Gunsmoke”…wearing his flannel pajamas and viyella bathrobe while wrapped in a blanket, and going through the list of calls to his patients…reminding each one of them to “Go home and soak it!”
Another snapshot of Dad: driving. I must have been a toddler when he pushed me up through the sunroof in his VW bug while we were stuck in the Callahan Tunnel. He needed to know why traffic was jammed up ahead when he was trying to get to Logan Airport. His speeding exploits were legendary. Each time he was pulled over, he would jump out of his car and exclaim: “Officer, what seems to be the problem? I’m Dr. Banks, on my way to an emergency!”
Dad always insisted: “I’m always right behind you!” This was sometimes a terrifying idea, but mostly very comforting to know I always had your support. When I marched on Washington in May of 1970 after the invasion of Cambodia, it was a bit of a pain to have to call my dad regularly from phone booths…those were the days before cell phones. But I also remember times like when Jay had his tib/fib injury and you hired a car to visit him in Williamstown or the first time I broke my ankle and there you were at Stratton to check out the x-rays and make sure it was set properly.
I know you panicked when I had lunch at your mother’s apartment while I was pregnant with Aron…but maybe I just have a stronger stomach.
Happy Birthday with love, Dad…you are the greatest.
