Raised Without A Father
By Chris Flesor
Raised without a father by a kind and intelligent mother, my dad watched his friends go off to high school, and then hit the city streets to find a job at age 14. He eventually ended up in the garment industry. He was a renaissance man in a blue collar world. He had the soul of an artist, and everything he did was with an artistic flair.
He grew up in St. Louis in rented flats, yet he could put any gardener to shame when he owned his own home. He didn’t simply plant flowers, he created picturesque flower beds and floral settings.
When he filmed our home movies, he didn’t simply record a family occasion; he created a small drama or comedy. My sister and I accepted our roles, along with our mom, cousin, and even our dog, Toby, in his scripted and directed film creations.
He was a paradox: he didn’t have much faith in or respect for the human race; he was actually quite cynical about it. Yet he genuinely liked people—he made friends with everyone. He believed that a higher power had to have created this world because of its beauty and complexity and had great respect and honor for his Jewish heritage; yet he refused to believe that God was an entity who sat in judgment listening to personal pleas for help.
He probably could have done anything with his life. He had a great mind, philosophical wisdom, wonderful dry wit, was amazingly creative, and worked well with strong hands. He admitted, almost apologetically, that he lacked the drive for what worldly success would have cost him. He enjoyed flowers in spring, the glorious colors of autumn, and the simplicity of daily life with family in our little home in University City.
My dad’s life on earth ended in autumn of 2005, at the age of 96. I will never experience a fragrant spring day without thinking of him, or listen to a beautiful aria without sharing it with him. Every time I plant a flower, I will feel my dad’s blessing. When I hit one of life’s many bumps, I hear him say; “This doesn’t matter, Chris; just take it one step at a time.” He couldn’t possibly die. He is a part of everyone he touched. He is here with me now and will live on.
