Melie Memories

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My father's name was Melie. At least that was what I thought. I first heard it from my mother when I was a child, but in Those Days, no one would ever call his parent by their first name. So, it was kind of a sacred name to me, and I never really questioned it.

It wasn't long before I realized everyone but his kids called him Melie. His friends, his family, everyone. So I presumed that was what he wanted to be called and that he likely introduced himself by that name.

Now, I was probably well into my adolescence when I realized his real name was Emilio, and I think that came about when I happened across a letter addressed to him. A weird name I thought. No wonder why he had a nick name. When you combined "Emilio" with our last name it became kind of a tongue twister. At times, I thought of it as a romantic kind of name. But, none the less, he was "Pop" to me.

Pop was an Italian, but I was quite old before I knew that. Born here by his immigrant parents. But he passed little of his heritage on to us. Not the language, or the religion, or the music, nor anything else. I really don't know why that was, but I think he wanted us to be Americans. And he hated the mafia and thought the mafia casted a bad image on him. The only thing that he seemed to retain was his love for Italian food. Spaghetti, in particular, with lots of bread and butter. And he passed that on to me.

I can imagine Pop at the Thought Dock. He would have loved it. It's not that he was a great outdoors man. Far from that. But, he did like being outside, but close enough to be inside when it became too hot or cold. So, he could get from the Dock to the Nest in a few short steps if needed.

He had a passion for boats, but it was not like he really knew what to do with one. And, he liked water and liked to swim. And he liked barbecuing, steak in particular, and he was a great cook, when he cooked. Actually, he was a chef in a fancy restaurant at one time.

And, I miss Pop, but I'll always have the Melie Memories.
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