Nov.1 – Happy Birthday, Dad.
Today is my father’s birthday: John Paul Dabravalskas, son of Ursula Blasis Dabravalskas and Karolys (Karl) Dabravalskas, born Nov. 1, 1917, died September 19, 2005.
He and I weren’t close when I was growing up, but as an adult, I’m grateful for him. I wish that we’d have had a chance to get to know each other better, once I was an adult and more understanding of the fact that he was thirty years older than my bio-mother, the first son, and first American born son of Lithuanian immigrants, a man who lived through the depression, served in two wars, and had his military career side lined because he cared more for the welfare of the men serving under his command than the general he served under. (I come by my lack of diplomacy honestly). To say that there were communication and cultural issues between us would be an understatement when I was growing up! But he was ok. by his generation’s standards, he was a good father, a good provider (he worked like a dog). I think I was lucky in a way to have been his daughter.
My dad was quiet and kept to himself, taught me to play chess (brutally — my chess technique I mean, not his teaching. He gave no quarter though, even when I was a child and to this day I play a mean, mean game of chess as does my brother). He liked reading about ‘unexplained mysteries,’ ‘cryptids,’ and weird things, and was very, very frugal (which was annoying as shit as a child!). After Korea, he worked the rest of his working life in Ordinance at Aberdeen Proving Ground and I remember when I was very, very small (maybe four-ish?) playing on the tanks there. They have several different types of tanks on display on the grounds (or did when I was a child in the seventies) and I have distinct memories of climbing on them. He met my mom at the Proving Ground as well. She worked there as a secretary when she was in her early twenties.
Like my maternal grandfather, my father served in WWII (they did not serve together nor even know each other) and then in Korea. He never spoke about his war experiences (though he always encouraged me to learn languages. When I was in elementary school, he’d bring home military manuals for learning German and French. Ironically, he would never speak Lithuanian at home. He was the generation that was encouraged to speak English and ‘be American,’ also, my bio-mom didn’t speak Lithuanian. I regret that I didn’t grow up bilingual but I suppose I’m making up for it now by learning a pacel of ‘dead’ languages. lol). Before he died, he had several years of dementia and would have flashbacks to his experiences in WWII, which scared the nurses sometimes. He died well and the last thing I remember is that he wanted to be sure his children were ok before he died.
So hail to my father, John Dabravalskas, on this his birthday.