BY VICKI LOVERN

My parents divorced when I was 5, so I barely remember my dad living with us. One of my earliest memories is being in my crib while my mom hid a birthday gift for my dad in a dresser drawer. “Now don’t tell Daddy,” she firmly told me. I also remember that the very first chance I got, I told Daddy. Or rather, I pointed at the drawer where my mom had so carefully hidden his treasure and, as only a baby can do, gleefully clapped my hands while jumping up and down in delight.

“That’s my baby girl,” was one of the few things I can remember him saying to me and my one and only crib memory.

My dad was quite handsome and charming and not only knew it, but shamelessly took advantage of it. He used his good looks as effortlessly as most of us breathe. Combined with a quick wit and breezy conversation, you have the ultimate “ladies’ man.” I’ve never known him to be without a woman. Even well into his 80s, living in an assisted living home, he had several female residents doing his bidding.

Though my mother was truly beautiful, a fabulous dancer and enjoyed an occasional night out, she was by no means a party girl. My dad, on the other hand, most assuredly was a party guy. Many a night he stayed out late in the beer joints, playing his guitar and drinking with his buddies. Therefore, many a morning he woke up with a nasty hangover, which required urgent attention. That is when I was introduced to his favorite cure: “plop, plop, fizz, fizz, oh what a relief it is,” Alka Seltzer. I would sit on his lap while he prepared the mighty elixir, taking the two 50-cent-size tablets and plopping them into a glass of water.

I was around 5, and now I’m 72, and I swear I can still smell those seltzers dissolving. It seemed almost magical the way they fizzed up my nose and throat and eyes. There were hundreds of tiny fizzles spraying everywhere, dancing to their own little fizzle rhythm and making my entire face tingle with their droplets. I loved everything about Alka Seltzer—the tart taste, the lemony scent, the crisp sound of the fizzing—everything. I also loved sitting on Daddy’s lap and him laughingly telling me not to drink it all and to save him a sip. In retrospect, that is most likely why I remember Alka-Seltzer so fondly—one of the few experiences I shared with my dad.

Ironically, one of the other few experiences I can recall is him giving me beer. I guess this is rather fitting, since I loved Alka-Seltzer so much. However, I definitely did not like the beer nearly as well. He would save me a little sup when he was almost finished with the can. And we all know how good that last, warm sip in the can is.

As you can no doubt surmise, Daddy Dear was a bit of a rascal. But an utterly lovable one, and certainly had many admirable qualities as well. He had a warm and generous heart, adored his mom and was a devoted son. He also loved his children and grandchildren—he just was not always that good at it.

An astute and successful businessman, he was a corporate manager of Goodyear Tires in Toledo, Ohio, for most of his life. He had a sharp, witty mind, a wonderful sense of humor, and laughed readily and often. He was friendly and gregarious, and his laughter and enthusiasm were contagious, making it nearly impossible to be in a bad mood or stay mad at him.

Dad loved life, loved people (especially women), loved to laugh and play his guitar. In short, he loved to have fun. For better or worse (I imagine both), I share many of these traits, particularly his fun-loving nature.

The last time I saw him, he had persuaded my half-sister, Pam, to drive him from Toledo, Ohio, to Williamson, West Virginia, to get his driver’s license renewed. He was no longer driving, but for some unknown reason, he felt his driver’s license had to be issued in West Virginia. Well that was a bit of a problem, considering he hadn’t lived in West Virginia for over 20 years. And when the clerk confronted him with this uncomfortable fact, he simply looked at me and ever so casually asked, “Well, I can move in with you, can’t I?”

“Okay,” I thought, “now what am I gonna do?”

I looked over at my sister and husband as they were quietly cracking up and calmly replied, “If that is what you want to do, then of course.”

I could not even look at the clerk, who, I must say, displayed an inordinate amount of tact and restraint. Thank the Lord, she told him that he had to pass the vision test first, which, again, thank the Lord, he could not.

I did kinda feel sad for him that he could not get his license renewed in West Virginia. But I was also so very thankful that I would not be involved in driver’s license fraud. It truly was an apt and funny last encounter for us. And I am thankful for it. I am also very thankful that despite all our years apart and, admittedly, some resentment on my part, he knew that I loved him and I knew that he loved me too. I am also more than thankful for my two siblings that he gave me. They are indeed priceless to me, an only child who grew up yearning for a brother or sister, and now I have both.

A few months before he passed, he sent me a music box with a beautiful necklace inside. The box plays “Beautiful Dreamer,” and the necklace is a gold chain with a heart and a diamond in the center. The inscription on the back of the necklace reads: “Wherever life takes you, you will always be my daughter.” And that, my dear handsome daddy, I most certainly will.