JIM BUSEK: Special memories of a special man

Wednesday is my dad's birthday.He has not been around to celebrate it since 1997 but, nonetheless, that was the day he was born in 1923—93 years ago.As you have learned in the past, certain things—like a birthday—trigger memories of my father and then I spill them out in this column.For instance, I told you in this space how he was awakened one morning in 1950 with the news that he was the write-in winner for mayor of Wakeman, although he had not been running. He kept the job for eight years.For years afterward, on election day he was the first person in town to vote.In his full-time job, he was a foreman for a big industrial plumbing contractor. He was in charge of getting all the plumbing installed at the Norwalk Furniture factory in the two years before the plant opened in January, 1971.He did lots of work at the Norwalk municipal power plant (now the water treatment plant on Old State Road). Some of the asbestos he chipped off the big insulated lines there undoubtedly ended up in his lungs and made life hard for him toward the end.On the side, he did the plumbing in half the buildings in Wakeman. He could carry a water heater down basement steps by himself. I learned this one day when I arrived 30 seconds late to help him.He worked like a bull, twice as fast as other mortals. He always wore a green work suit.He never had what you would call a hobby. But he had more friends than I have.He would order an ice cream cone to eat while driving and eat only the ice cream, throwing away the untouched cone.He lived in the same house for almost 50 years. He was a very good neighbor.He spent almost every summer evening sitting on his front porch.At night he would cut a grapefruit in half, sugar it copiously, leave it on the kitchen counter and eat it for breakfast at room temperature.He had a great sense of humor and told a good story.He could get really mad over the dumbest things and then be all bluster and profanity.He always bought quality. And he usually told you how much it cost.He had coffee with almost every meal. Just a little milk in it, thank you.He always blew on the pages of a newspaper to separate them when they were stuck together.He once saved a man's life but never talked about it.He only went to the library to give the librarians a hard time. They liked him.He smoked too many Camels, inhaled too much asbestos at his job and was gone too soon.He only had one wife, and he loved her very much.Those are the kind of things that I'll be thinking about on Wednesday, the birthday of Donald James Busek, my dad.Jim Busek is a free-lance writer who lives in Norwalk. He can be reached via e-mail at jimbusek@hotmail.com.Jim Busek