>Don't Cry Because It's Over. Smile Because It Happened

>

Day #4 of Death Week at The Napkin Dad Daily.  Don’t worry, today is a good death day.
Harry’s Bar – A Story of Life and Death

She was at the airport, about to board for her big adventure overseas.  Going to Italy for a Vespa tour with her buddies from her NYC Vespa club.  As she boarded her father, the famous man, called.  He said in that funny, formal way of his; If you, or any of your party, enjoy liver and onions, you really have to go to Harry’s Bar in Venice.  He had been there long ago he said and it was great. Not only that but the place was a landmark, was magical and was worth finding when she was there.



He had that great, unbridled enthusiasm for life he always had in his voice and she could hear the happiness he had in passing on this bit of information to his daughter, whom he loved.  He wasn’t able to travel any more, having a bad back that prohibited it.  She had even had to go on his behalf to various events honoring him, the famous man, because he couldn’t travel even within the states successfully.  But nonetheless his joy was evident. He didn’t need to go, he just needed to talk to his daughter about the going.  She knew that and smiled and laughed with him about his funny recommendation.  She promised him she would try to find Harry’s Bar.


She knew they would not be in Venice for long but she asked the concierge at the hotel where Harry’s Bar was anyway.  It turned out that it was not convenient to get to from where they were. They would have to take a water taxi the wrong way from their fancy restaurant destination.  She decided she would find it later maybe. She didn’t really want to have liver and onions, after all. She would be disappointed if she didn’t see the place and she knew he would be too.  But if it wasn’t to be, it wasn’t to be.

After the dinner at the fancy restaurant they decided to take a different water taxi back to the hotel. They strolled the streets after getting off, figuring they would find the hotel soon enough. Turning a certain corner she saw a little innocuous wood door and single window. but the big words on the glass in the door caught her eye. It simply said Harry.  

She jumped at her friends and said ‘There it is, there it is, there’s Harry’s Bar, right there!’  She was surprised at her own enthusiasm but she went with it and bounded into the bar.  Her father was right, what a magical little spot it was.  She loved the old fashion feel to the place, the wood, the low lights, the crowd of drinkers. She could see what her dad was taking about and all of a sudden she was giddy with delight.

She decided she just had to call her dad.  It was mid-afternoon back in the states and he answered while his wife was out doing errands.  The daughter had to scream into the phone to overcome the noise of the bar crowd, but he could hear her easily.  “Guess where I am, Dad? I am in Venice and I am in Harry’s Bar! You were right, it is a magical, beautiful place!”  He asked her if they ate there and had the liver and onions.  She told him she found it by accident after they dined elsewhere but that it didn’t matter. They were going to have a drink and enjoy the place for a while.  

He was excited and happy, she could tell. His joy in hearing his daughter enjoying her life, especially a little part that he had a hand in so far away from home was a great joy. It was better than the awards he got for being a famous man. It was better than the publicity and the fame. it was better than the money.  She knew he was loving hearing her voice having fun off in the wo
rld he helped give her.  They hung up with each other happy to be joined in love.

Later the famous man’s wife came home.  He proudly told her right away “Guess who called ME all the way from Venice!” He then told her about his daughter calling him from Harry’s Bar.  He said “She sounded like she was floating on air.”  

A few hours later they were settled in their easy chairs for the evening, watching the Golf Channel.  He had his dinner and his martini. He was happy.  His wife got up to go in the kitchen and then to the bathroom. When she returned the famous man was dead.  He was gone and that was that.  No hospital, no illness, no long, severe pain.  One minute he was a happy, content father beaming at the happiness of his daughter, so much like him.  The next minute he had moved on.

The daughter found out early the next morning. She was thousands of miles away, in a foreign country not knowing the language.  She had to figure out how to get home.  It took two trains to get to Pisa where she could take a direct flight back to America.  The love and grace she was shown during that trip home and the kindness of her travel partners and complete strangers eased the grief.  She came home and said her goodbyes.  She didn’t say goodbye to a famous man, other people did that. She said goodbye to a good father. That is what he was to her, famous or not. That is what mattered to her.

She had no guilt, no remorse that she didn’t say goodbye to her father in the classic way. She had that moment. That moment that told him and told her that he lived on in her.  She was taking one trip, he was taking another. He had passed on his humor, his joy, his attitude of fun, his willingness to take risks and try new things to her.  Harry’s bar and their deep love and connection from thousands of miles apart had shown that. It was a sign and a story she could live with the rest of her life.

This story is dedicated to Jimmy Dean and his daughter, Connie.
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Drawing and story by Marty Coleman of The Napkin Dad Daily
Quote by Dr. Seuss, 1904-1991, American author.  Author of ‘Cat in the Hat’ and a gazillion other books.

You’re Off To Great Places – updated 2017

Hola Napkin Kin! Today is the last of my week-long series on travel.
Would love to hear your ideas for other week-long series when you have
the time. email me at marty@martycoleman.com or just post a comment.

I love to take trips when I can, whether it be by path, road, air or water
(road is my favorite). One of the main reasons is that I am a ‘noticer’ (thanks
to Erin for that recent designation of moi). I go somewhere and I notice the
different accents, products, clothes, food, store fronts, air, potholes, patterns
and ways of doing things. It is exciting to see all those new things, to notice
the differences, to experience the newness.

With the noticing comes education. I learn first how provincial I am. I get use
to my world, my town, my way of doing things. By traveling I learn that I am
small and the world is big. I get bigger when I realize that. And yes, I get a bigger
waistline too, from ‘noticing’ all the new food!

With education comes appreciation. I appreciate that the world is open to me.
I appreciate that I have a home and familiar places I can return to. I appreciate
how the world does not revolve around me. I love seeing the people on the street
in a new locale, especially if I draw or photograph them. I think of it as a little
collision of humanity in a large world, a bump and we are back on to our own
trajectory.

With appreciation comes gratitude. I am grateful that I have the means and the
ability to travel. I know it won’t last forever. I know I will someday be at a point when
I won’t travel. I will be gone from the earth. I don’t mind that. But I would mind
not being aware of that and taking advantage of the time I do have to move about.

With gratitude comes love. Love for those who I notice along my path. The waitress,
the hot dog vendor, the random person from Idaho next to me at the fireworks, the
couple on the boat on a romantic weekend. I have a heart of hope for them.
I wish them well. I encourage them. I love them.

The greater love is for those I know and am with on the journey. My wife, daughters,
friends. I see them in a new light. I see new aspects of them, their growth, their
struggles, their eccentricities and intelligence. I have more to love of them that way.

Travel is good. Get up and go.

“You’re off to great places! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting so get on your way!” – Dr. Seuss.