Expressway: Thanks, Dad, for your overflowing optimism
Writer Rick Bodamer of Blue Point, bottom right, in an undated photo with his parents, Gloria and Ernie Bodamer, top, and siblings, Wayne and Kim. Rick says his father was an optimist who saw the glass "overflowing." Credit: Bodamer family photo
We packed up my father's life after he died earlier this year. Almost 92 years of living can fill a lot of boxes and trash bags.
Most of his personal belongings -- clothing, furniture, household items -- were donated to charities, but my sister, brother and I all took things for sentimental reasons: The trophy he received from his golfing buddies when he shot a hole-in-one at Bethpage. His cluster of shiny Marine Corps medals earned while serving proudly in the Pacific in World War II. The laminated, handmade "Master Carrier Card" my brother and I bestowed on him for chauffeuring us around our Newsday route in North Massapequa on rainy days way back when there were such things as "paperboys."
In my eyes, Ernie Bodamer was a remarkable man, not because he did remarkable things himself in life (he took pride in being an insurance agent for as long as I could remember), but because he helped us kids grow up believing we could.
Like the time I thought I couldn't earn my swimming merit badge in Boy Scouts. He said, "Yes, you can!" and took me to an indoor pool many times that winter to help build my endurance and confidence until I succeeded. Or the time I was in such a slump in Little League that I believed I would never hit a baseball again. He patiently worked with me every night after work for weeks until I regained my stroke (an eye exam and pair of glasses also helped). Or when I graduated high school and announced that I wanted to be a writer. He didn't try to persuade me to pursue a more practical profession. He simply said, "Go for it." I have worked as a journalist and advertising copywriter my whole life.
That was my dad. If an optimist sees the glass half full, he saw it overflowing. He was positive in everything he did and never said, "I can't." He tried to instill that positivity in all of us, and I truly believe it will be his greatest legacy.
Oddly enough, his robust outlook on life may have contributed to his life ending sooner than later. He was having heart problems, but the doctors said he could continue living without an operation -- if he used a walker, oxygen tank, and, eventually, a wheelchair.
But my father was sure he could do better. So, at age 91, he chose to have open-heart surgery. It was his decision alone. He survived the grueling operation -- an ambitious quadruple bypass and mitral valve replacement -- but not the recovery period.
His heart took its last beat in the quiet morning hours of April 30 at Jefferson's Ferry in South Setauket, his beloved retirement home for 10-plus years.
One of the last things I found while going through my father's desk was a tattered letter I had written to him more than 28 years ago when my wife was pregnant with our first child. It said I loved and admired him and hoped that I could be as good a dad to my kids as he was to us.
I had tears and a smile on my face when I realized my father had kept that letter almost three decades. But what he has given me will last much longer.
Reader Rick Bodamer lives in Blue Point.
Look for the Expressway reader essay on Sundays in Newsday. Send your personal story about life on Long Island to expressway@newsday.com, or write to Expressway, Newsday, 235 Pinelawn Rd., Melville,N.Y. 11747. Please limit essays to 540 words. Some essays are published in the newspaper and newsday.com, some are used online only; publication is not guaranteed. Readers are not paid for essays. Essays will be edited and may be used in all media.
