It's not often in the world that one can say, "my daddy is the comic genius Richard Pryor." It's not often that one can say, "if I had a dime for every time I heard how my Dad made them laugh so hard they almost wet their pants. I'd be a millionaire." And it certainly, is not often that one gets to say aloud how much they admire and love their Dad. But I do.
Daddy, may not have been the Cosby, Mr. Cleaver type, dad. In fact sometimes I would say he was more like Ozzy Osbourne on a good day. But, he is my Daddy and there was no one like him. I remember I would sit in complete amazement watching him perform as a child. There he would be surrounded by three thousand people, each one laughing so hard that they would rock back and forth, back and forth in their seats. Everyone wanted to be near him. I wanted to be near him, and when I was it was pure magic.
I spent most every Christmas vacation and one month in the summer with him. Sometimes, my half brother Richard Jr. and my half sister Elizabeth would be there. My father would always plan these amazing trips. Once we flew first class on the Concord to Paris where we stayed at the George Sanc Hotel, where I lost my favorite Teddy bear. So, Daddy went out and got me a brand new one. The only thing, it wasn't a Teddy bear. It was a doll that looked just like Dad's Aunt Maxine , full figured with red Afro and a hat. I still have that doll. Then it was off to London where we waited out side Queen Elizabeth's castle to see if she would give us a wave.
Daddy's favorite place to vacation was Hana Maui, Hawaii. Hana was the one place he could be his authentic self. During the early eighties Hana was still untouched by the hands of progressive developers and had great fishing. Daddy loved fishing and the tranquil, lush, volcanic paradise landscape with it's ocean symphonies that calmed his creative soul and made him almost childlike again.
Sometimes, he would take me fishing with him and there I would sit quiet as a mouse in an over sized raincoat and boots, with the tingle of salt from the ocean gently spraying my face. We would sit and he would say, "Tug on the line gently now. Not too hard. You got to make the fish think that's a little fish on the end of that line."
"Why?" , I asked .
"Cause fish are stupid. ... that's why." He said as we laughed and laughed.
Christmas in Hana was also a special time. Daddy would make sure that the tree was up and fully decorated before we got there. Sometimes we could add our own touches to the tree. The night of Christmas eve we would have a luau and eat fresh roasted pork, poi and Elizabeth and I would sing the Huki-lau song as we danced the hula.
The next morning we would wake up to sounds of Santa Clause and rush out into the living room only to find., a tree surrounded by presents. Daddy swore it was really Santa himself who put those presents there ,and we would have seen him if we ran out in time. Without fail Elizabeth and I would get the same gifts only different colors. Dad would tell us that Santa did this so we wouldn't fight over who got what. Boy could he make magic happen.
Back in California dad would come to all my little shows and even my graduation. It was always a big surprise when he came because with his life, being what it was you never knew if he would be able to make it. He tried though and I love him for that.
It's hard to be a comic genius and a father at the same time. On many occasions I took a back seat to his life. And yes there were the not so good times. The drugs and having to witness his abuses against women. It was hard to understand this duality and to understand that he was not whole unless he was on a stage. My daddy spent many years fighting demons that only he could battle.
Daddy was very open with his trials in life and it was his willingness to bare all that made him so vulnerable. His gift allowed the world into his life; sometimes dark, yet, he still found a way to make us laugh.
When daddy found out he had Multiple Sclerosis his life slowed down enough to let me in . We cried together and mended and healed the old wounds that lingered in the not so distant past. I participated in his therapies asked questions of the doctors and learned about MS.
It was I, who his assistants, girlfriends, caretakers would call to come to my father side. And there I would be to hold his hand to let him know it was going to be okay. To lift him in and out of his wheelchair. Sometimes it was easy , sometimes it was hard. Sometimes his moods would change and he'd want everyone out, even me.
No one around my father understood what MS was and the effects it would have on him. That his moods would change from one moment to the next. That he would tire easily and sometimes not be able to move or have the energy to speak. Those who surrounded him accused him of being stubborn, uncooperative. Accused him of partying to much the night before. Their patience sometimes wore thin and my dad would become fatigued trying to defend himself. The cycle would go on for years.
But between those moments was a man that I called daddy. A man who told me if anything should ever happen to him, he loved his children very much. He said, "If I could do one thing over; it would be to be a better father at times." I believe in my soul he truly meant that.
As Multiple Sclerosis slowly over took dad's mobility, and took a way the silent roar that was his voice he developed a new way to communicate. He would blow kisses and make little sounds that the entire world could hear if they were listening. His eyes would light up with joy when ever he saw his children and grandchildren. He laughed at our jokes and gave us permission to tell his. Sometimes he would say, "Love you baby" with all his strength. We would communicate without words and understand everything. I think only children have that with their parents.
Multiple Sclerosis has not beaten my father . His soul is still as strong as ever. And there is a cure out there if we dig deep enough.
Daddy taught me to tell the truth. And I made a promise to him that I would honor him by telling the truth and making sure he knew his children loved him. There will be few that try and take away our special memories, few that will try and break down the bond that was formed before his MS. But, they will never be able to take away his legacy which each of his children no matter how different we are will take with us.
