Wednesday, March 26, 2008

A fine memory of Mr. Doring

Before I went off into the Peace Corps and discovered the S.E Asian part of the world that wasn't the Philippines, The Doring family had a special guest.

Aside from being my brother's g-dfather, Uncle W was considered our uncle, older friend, and the longest friend my father seemed to have in the States. Despite his age, any time Bry and I were in Deutschland, we'd always have a beer or 3 with Uncle W, then go off to some museum as he rehashed memories of "back in the day".
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The 1st time Uncle W came to visit us in Tulsa was in the middle of winter. His German blood had no problem keeping the guest room window open for "fresh air" all night long. By the time I inhabited my room again. There were small icicles formed in the corners of my bedroom.
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Uncle W's 2nd visit many years later was in the fall and our home was a moderate temperature. Downtown, a new split piano/jazz bar had opened up and I was eager to bring my father there. After all, we had never been out together in a venue and secondly, I thought the dueling piano playing would remind him of the bars of the 50s, class with a hint of rebellion.
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We started our early evening in the Jazz bar and ordered our drinks. My father looked so uncomfortable, he hadn't been in a social situation like that in 30 years at least.
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He turns to me with a perplexed look. "Suzi" he says. "The women here are hookers". I turn back with a grin- "No dad, that's just how women dress these days"
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