Life ...

A Letter to My Dad

Don Gonos and David Gonos with some bass they caught at Lake Tohopakeliga

Dear Dad,

I know, I know, it’s been a long time since I wrote you. But come on, you died over 19 years ago and didn’t leave a forwarding address. That’s on you!

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately, Don Gonos. Thought about your love of sports and games and how that trait has certainly passed on to me. Your quick temper made its way into my bloodstream, but thankfully, people have told me that your quick wit has also found a home in my DNA.

Don Gonos and son, David

Young vs. Middle-Aged

When you last saw me, I was a strapping young buck (22) with 10 lifetimes ahead of me, or so I thought. Even in the last few years of your life, we didn’t communicate much. I was busy learning about women or trying to make a quick buck. But when we did see each other after some time, you were quick to make me smile, pointing out the 10-15 pounds I had put on since we last spoke, “Dave, what happened? Did your chest have an avalanche?” (One of my all-time favorite Dad quotes!)

By the way, those extra pounds have turned into quite a few more extra pounds. Don’t judge me! Cold Stone Creamery wasn’t around when you were alive!

Sports Recaps

A lot has happened over the past 19 years, Dad, and I’m not just talking about me.

  • Remember O.J. Simpson? Yeah, well, we don’t like him anymore.
  • Buffalo lost four straight Super Bowls – including the one against Dallas on the day you died.
  • Remember Archie Manning? Loser Saints QB? His sons have four Super Bowl rings between them now.

Fenway Park, 1979, David Gonos, Mike Dobek, Scott Dobek

Baseball has probably changed the most, though. I know you were a Yankees fan while I was growing up, but remember how you taught me that rooting for an underdog is more satisfying for the soul than rooting for a Goliath that is expected to win everything? The Yankees have become the epitome of MLB’s Goliath – they are always expected to dominate – only to lose to a smaller foe!

And you can scratch off Boston from your “feel-sorry-for” list. They have two titles and are beginning to look a little too Yankee-like. (Hey, I went to Fenway Park a few years ago for the first time since you took me as a kid! And I even sat in right field, close to where we were!)

The Marlins started baseball in Florida right after you died, and Tampa Bay followed suit just five years later. Two baseball teams in Florida!!! Don’t feel bad that you didn’t know that, since it seems like most of Florida still doesn’t know either.

Remember all those baseball cards you bought me as a kid? Well, my love for stats and writing pushed me to write about sports for the past 12 years. Thank you.

If I do have a son, I plan to teach him how to play baseball and tennis and golf, just like you taught me. I’ll teach him how to read a boxscore, and how to cook a steak, and how to clean a fish like you taught me. I’ll hit “major-league pop-ups” to him in our backyard and I’ll buy him as many books as he wants.

Don Gonos and David Gonos with some bass they caught at Lake TohopakeligaOne of my favorite all-time you-and-me moments was when I played hooky and we went fishing on Lake Tohopekaliga. We caught some bass and had an awesome time. Whenever I fish now, I think of you. I think of all those times we sat in silence. Looking back now, though, I wish we weren’t so silent. I wish we talked the entire time.

Your Kids and Grandkids

Well, Pop, I’m closer to Mark, your other son, than ever before. Your daughter Rosebud, and her kids, come down once in a while too, and it’s always a great time. And being with them, and your two grandsons, Jason and Jeff, makes us think and talk about you often. Every story ends with laughter – without fail. Thanks for not leaving us alone.

I think you’d be proud of the Gonos males, pop. I’m a writer; Mark’s a salesman and a fishing guide; Jeff’s a yacht captain, and Jason is a successful entrepreneur with a college degree. Every one of those skills and abilities came from you. Thank you.

I’m sorry it took me a couple decades to write this.

I love you and I miss you, Dad.




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