My Words About Tato

I started to think about what I would want to say about my dad, my Tato, in the event of his passing well before the day arrived.  I knew it was imminent - particularly in those last two weeks when things started going downhill.  I realized that I didn't want to carelessly throw together a speech at the last minute, especially since I knew I'd be in an state of emotional upheaval.  So I started putting together my thoughts at least a week before he left this world.  I came up with the beginning and ending while standing in the shower, lying in bed at night, driving to work etc. - and never wrote any of it down, just kept thinking about it over and over again.  Finally, the night before the funeral I sat down in front of my mom's computer and wrote out the entire speech from beginning to end.

I knew I had to give my Tato a good send-off.  He was the master of the speech - gifted in coming up with the right words with little preparation.  I was determined to do right by him.  When the time finally came - I wasn't nervous at all.  Perhaps that's because I'd already been standing in the church for about 2 hours and was ready to move on to the next thing.  I felt the words flow right through me and I knew that he was there with me, guiding me through.  I have never spoken in front of that many people before, and when I have spoken in front of a group in the past I've alwasy been consumed with feelings of nervousness and inadequacy.  Not so that day.  Here is what I said - for the most part.  I improvised a bit and I've edited my written version to reflect the improvisations as much as I remember them.  There are parts of the written version that I never ended up saying, but I left them in.

Hello.  Most of you know me but for those of you who don’t, I’m Alina, Richard’s oldest daughter.  As you well know, my dad, my Tato, was a gifted speaker.  He had no problem getting up in front of a large crowd and giving a talk – whether planned or impromptu.  Quite often he would deliver his speeches with little to no written notes to help him along.  His talks would usually include some type of quirky introduction – like the time he recited a poem in Lithuanian before giving a highly scientific talk about ocean currents.  And who could forget the speech he gave at my wedding – where he proceeded to quote the lyrics from Johnny Cash’s song “A Boy Named Sue” and then somehow managed to tie it in with the fact that I’d just gotten married? 

It won’t surprise you to know that his ability to speak easily in front of a large group started at an early age.  He liked to tell the story of a speech class he took in high school, where the teacher told the class to get up and tell something about themselves.  My father got up in front of the class and began to explain to them how to pronounce his last name.  Now, having grown up with the last name Legeckis myself, I can see why he found this necessary.  Even though our last name is spelled quite phonetically, people take one look at it and become instantly tongue tied.

So he stood in front of the class and said “My name may seem difficult to pronounce, but if you  break it down you will see that it is actually quite easy.”  He said “All you have to say are three simple words – Leg, Egg, and Kiss.  Put them together and you get Legeckis.”  My Tato approached most things in life this way – he would take a complex idea, break it down, and show you how simple it actually was.

These three words actually say a lot about my Tato.  Take the first word: Leg.  Anyone who has ever seen him on the beach in one of his favorite speedo swim suits knows that he had the longest, skinniest, tannest legs around.  He wore those speedos long after they were in fashion and somehow he always managed to pull it off. 

Take the second word: Egg.  Many of you probably don’t know this, but one of Tato’s favorite breakfasts was two, very running soft boiled eggs, placed in egg cups, with a pat of butter and some salt and pepper – he would dive into these eggs with great enthusiasm  - so much so that he usually ended up with egg in his beard after a few bites.  My mom, sister and I would usually laugh or groan and say “Tato – or Richard! You have egg in your beard.”  He would say “I do?” in a surprised way and after a few attempts would finally manage to wipe it off. 

And the third word:  Kiss.  Whether you knew my Tato well or not, he always greeted everyone the same way – his big hands outstretched to envelope you in a big hug and a nice big kiss on the cheek – or sometimes smack on the lips if you were lucky.  His affection was unending and he had no qualms about sharing it.  It didn’t matter if you were a man or a woman, he greeted everyone equally.

One of my father's co-workers came up to me today and said "You know, Richard was not the typical scientist.  He wasn't boring.  He was interesting."  Well, my Tato was not the typical father.  He was not one to come home from work, kick off his shoes and sit back in a lazy-boy recliner reading the paper and sipping martinis.  Quite often when he would pull into the driveway after a long day at work, puttering up in his beloved VW Bug, he wouldn’t even come inside first but typically took a detour to reposition the sprinklers, stack some firewood, pluck some lettuce and cherry tomatoes from his garden for a salad.  Then he would go put on on his favorite dungarees, as he liked to call them, and go off to work on some other project.  He always had a list of jobs to complete – typically things like fix door handle, mulch garden, change oil in car, etc.  He was always busy and rarely called in outside help.  I don’t remember any plumbers, electricians, or handymen coming to the house because Tato would usually fix things himself.  And if he didn’t know how to fix it, he would usually figure it out.

Sometimes he took these DIY projects to the extreme – like the time he decided to lay a pipe to drain water away from the basement of our house.  He ended up digging a massive trench at least 6 feet deep and 20 feet long in our backyard without any help – we have a photo of him standing in what we dubbed “The ditch” – covered in mud and looking sweaty and disheveled. 

Another project that almost went bad was the time he decided to install a sliding glass door in the hosue in Bethesda – he bashed a hole in the side of the house and then when he couldn’t quite get the sliding door to fit properly the hole ended up being covered in plastic sheeting for weeks until he was finally able to fix the problem.  I remember  my mother not being too happy about the delay during this tense time – but once again Tato figured out how to fix it and the sliding door still works beautifully.

Whenever he would visit our house he was always on the prowl to find things to fix.  One time I called him and said “Tato, I can’t figure out how to install the baby gate at the top of the stairs.  There’s nothing to anchor it to on one side.”  The next day he showed up to babysit my kids while I went to work, arms full of random pieces of wood, a sheet of plexiglass, random pieces of metal and tools and by the time I came home from work, the job was done – complete with a neat little space cut out in the plexiglass to allow my cats to go up and down the stairs. 

Tato’s projects were not always practical – he definitely knew how to create some fun things too.  One year when it snowed he built us a huge ice slide in the backyard.  He used his own body weight and a metal saucer sled to carve out a path down the hill and around the back corner of the yard, not unlike a luge or bobsled track – complete with ice which he created by hosing down the slide every night so that it would freeze into a slick sheet of ice.  He built a huge mound for us to push off from and delighted in making the slide as fast as possible.  Being the practical and safety conscious man he was, however, he made sure to surround the trees in our yard with rubber tires to prevent us from bashing our heads in should we crash into the tree trunks on our way down.

My Tato always looked at things a little differently than most people.  Perhaps it was the unique combination of his scientific mind with a strong creative streak he possessed that made him the way he was.  I remember one time he went out to mow the lawn in preparation for a big graduation party we were having in honor of my college graduation and my sister’s high school graduation.  Instead of mowing the lawn in straight lines as usual,  he mowed the grass in large swirls, creating designs that resembled those supposedly left by aliens in cornfields.  Our friends still talk about the swirly mowing job to this day – it was truly a work of art. 

He also enjoyed swirling his coffee before pouring the cream in and then making me and my sister watch as he slowly poured in the cream – pointing out the unique patterns and flow of the cream as it joined the swirling coffee.  He used this as a lesson to explain the ocean currents and what happens when liquids of different temperatures meet and move together.  He loved to summon us downstairs to his computer where he would show us the satellite images of ocean currents and talk about how beautiful the colors were that showed the different water temperatures. 

Although he was a scientist, our Tato was also very creative, artistic and musical.  He taught us that it’s always ok to try something at least once since you’ll never know if you’re good at something unless you try it.  He tried many things.  He took a sculpture class and made a beautiful wooden sculpture.  He learned how to carve calligraphy in stone when he went to Wales with my mother.  He took a drawing class and discovered a talent for sketching. 

But his greatest talent was his penchant for music.  His piano playing is the soundtrack of my youth.  I remember lying in bed at night, falling asleep to the sound of his piano playing.  His style was uniquely his own – he used a technique of chord combinations and gave it his own signature sound, one that I have tried to recreate many times.  He sat me down about a year ago and showed me how he figured out the chords and again, took something that seems so complex and put it in very simple terms.  He played piano everywhere he went – if there was a piano in the room, he would find it and play it.  He rarely used sheet music – he played from his heart and covered the occasional mistake with embellishments.  He has entertained countless delighted listeners over the years – but my favorite setting to hear him play was right in his own home, at the same piano where my sister and I practiced our lessons.  His piano playing is one of the things I miss the most – but we are very fortunate that he had the foresite to record himself playing all his favorite tunes and so we will be able to listen to him play for years to come.

Tato was a fun-loving man.  He could enter a room and suddenly the atmosphere would change.  He loved to dance and would twirl my mother, my sister and me and many other ladies around the dance floor at Soyuzivka, various zabavy (dances), weddings.  When I danced with my Tato I felt like the best dancer in the world.  Even if you had two left feet Tato had a way of showing you what to do without even saying a word.  I’m sure there are many ladies in here who have learned some dance moved from my Tato.  My husband even learned some moves from him – I distinctly remember a hilarious teaching moment in the tiny kitchen of our apartment in Wildwood NJ during our beach vacation several years ago – I have a great video of Tato and John, arm in arm, counting steps and dancing over a small square of linoleum.

Tato loved to play the piano, but he also loved to listen to music – the sounds of Waylon Jennings, Kris Kristofferson, Willie Nelson filled our house – as well as the sounds of Julio Iglesias, Donna Summer and so many more.  I remember waking up in the morning one Saturday to Tato blasting Donna Summer’s “Hot Stuff” throughout the house – and the sounds of him whooping, dancing and clapping loudly in the living room.  Our house was always filled with music and dancing.  After a trip to Greece my Tato loved to play Greek music and demonstrate the Greek style of dancing to anyone who happened to be near him.  I remember him doing this one summer at Soyuzivka in our room and little Ella who was 2 years old at the time joined in and twirled around in circles over and over again, wearing just a pair of stretchy black pants and wild curly hair.  In the past year Tato  took to carrying his iPhone around with him and playing random songs for people and encouraging them to sing along even if they didn’t know the words.  He always wanted to share his love for music with everyone around him.

Tato especially delighted in entertaining my friends and my sister’s friends over the years – he would often appear out of nowhere in his aluminum foil Viking hat over a red curly wig, playing his wooden whistle like the pied piper.   These wooden whistles were often the source of great embarrassment for me and my sister – since Tato would hide these whistles in strategic places, like the side pocket of his Nissan Maxima or an inside jacket pocket, and then randomly start playing one wherever we happened to be – the supermarket, the library, the more public the setting the better.   We would shake our heads as if to say “oh, great, here he goes again” but he didn’t seem to care.  His expression never changed, he would just continue playing. Our friends loved every minute of it. 

Tato always made everyone feel welcome.  He greeted everyone with open arms.  At the beach in the summers he was known for his margaritas and fresh salsa, and everyone was welcome to join in.  As I became an adult I grew to appreciate this side of him more and more. 

The past ten years showed me another side of my Tato, because these were the years that he got to take on a new role as grandpa – or as the kids called him “Poppy”.  Poppy was always ready to build things for the kids – like the house made out of several cardboard boxes that even had a chimney attached.  He loved to sit them down and show them how to pick out the keys on the piano and how to strum a guitar.  Having an endless list of “jobs” to accomplish around the house, He loved putting the kids to work – raking leaves, mopping floors, and making it seem like a game, not a chore.  He was a ready and willing babysitter – filling in for my mother on occasion when she was unable to come over.  He attended Jack’s baseball games even as recently as this past spring – giving Jack his signature thumbs up and a big smile.  He love his youngest grandchildren and got many chances to hold them both.  Even within the past few weeks he was teaching Ella how to give a firm handshake and giving the kids the thumbs up when they would draw him a picture or tell him about something new they had accomplished.

In the days after he passed, I comforted myself by thinking about who he was meeting up with in heaven.  His parents of course; his beloved cousin Iggy – who he grew up with and was like a brother to him; his nephew Dobie; and many other friends and relatives who have gone before him.  And to those souls who he is meeting for the very first time – I picture him teaching them how to pronounce his last name – with long, strong, deeply tanned legs, lots of runny softboiled eggs – and endless kisses for everyone.

I love you Tato – As teve miliu – and Labanaktis – until we meet again.

After I spoke I called my son Jack up to say a few words.  He'd told me earlier in the week that he wanted to say something and he wrote his own speech on a scrap of paper that he brought with him to the funeral.  He has since hidden the speech somewhere "special" in his room - but once I can get him to show it to me I will post his speech on this blog as well.  I am so proud of him.  He got up in front of hundreds of people and had the guts to get through his entire speech, even though he got choked up about half way through.  I heard later that there was not a dry eye in the house.  I really think that Jack has so much of his Poppy in him - his poise, his willingness to put himself out there, his love of piano.  It's so true that a part of us lives on through our children, grandchildren and so on.  That's what a legacy is all about.