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FUNNY FAMILY PERSONAL ESSAY CONTEST
4TH PLACE WINNER - THANK YOU, SHORTY
BY SCOTT SEIFRITZ
My father was a great man. Maybe not Einstein or Lincoln great, but to my siblings and
me, he was up there. He taught us appreciation and respect. He taught us how to fix small appliances. He gave us his love, a comfortable standard of living, and his genes for height. Like him, I’m a respectable six-foot. The rest of my siblings range from five-foot-seven to six-foot-four.
While height comes in handy for many things – playing basketball, reaching items on the
top shelf, seeing well at concerts -- it was another innate gift from my father that I Appreciate even more: his sense of humor. My father was a funny man. He knew how to tell a joke and how to relate a humorous story. He appreciated a good pun, and he knew how to laugh. As a family we laughed often. We still do. It’s that sense of humor that I particularly cherish and enjoy.
Considering how we felt about our father, it was understandably difficult when, at age 71,
he unexpectedly died of a heart attack. My siblings and I gathered around our mother to provide the support we all needed, and we made it through the funeral planning stage strengthening ourselves with cheerful memories of the man who meant so much to us.
At the wake, we lined up next to our mother and greeted the many people who came to
pay their last respects. We had multiple calling hours to accommodate the flood of Mourners,some travelling in from other states. There were many people I didn’t know – some who had worked with my father 30 years before and some he had only met recently doing work for his church – and there were plenty whom I hadn’t seen since I was a young boy. I was impressed by the turnout.
I stood at the beginning of the receiving line next to my sister Sharon. One person after
another filed past, stopping long enough to shake our hands and offer their condolences. At the end of the line of mourners was an older man of medium height and build whom I didn’t recognize. He introduced himself as a former workmate of my father’s and told me he was sorry for our loss. I shook his hand and he moved on to Sharon.
As I stood there during the lull in traffic, I overheard the man engaging in the same
conversation with my sister that he’d just had with me. At the end though, there was a slight difference. As Sharon shook his hand before passing him down the line, I heard her say, “Thank you, Shorty.” I glanced over at the man who, with a strange look on his face, continued to our next sibling.
Hmmm, I thought. Is that what he told me his name was? I didn’t think so, but I’ll be the
first to admit that I’m terrible at registering names. Perhaps I just wasn’t paying attention, or perhaps my sister – ten years my senior -- was familiar with a nickname that my father had affectionately called this man when they’d worked together years before. It seemed a little odd though. He wasn’t particularly short – shorter than my sister, yes, but still maybe 5’9”. Perhaps he was a late bloomer. Perhaps I’d simply misheard.
In the middle of all the solemnity, over the mournful piped-in organ music, I turned to
Sharon and whispered, “Did you just call him Shorty?”
“Yes,” she whispered back. “That’s what he said his name was.”
I mulled this over for a few seconds.
“He didn’t say, ‘I’m Shorty,’” I informed her. “He said, ‘I’m sorry.’”
By her slightly furrowed brow, I could tell Sharon was replaying the conversation in her
head. As her eyes widened a bit, I knew that she too had come to the realization of what had just transpired, and why a kind elderly gentleman who had stopped to pay his last respects to an old friend had walked away with a perplexed, if not actually stunned look upon his face.
I’m sure anyone looking on at that moment assumed the tears streaming down our cheeks were tears of sorrow. They were mistaken. We tried desperately to stifle our laughter, but it came forth in full body spasms – a week of powerful emotions bursting forth over the dams in our eyes. I like to think our father was there in spirit laughing alongside us, encouraging us to find the humor we needed to overcome our sadness.
Yes, my father was a great man. He taught me many things and gave me many of the
tools that have helped me succeed in this life. He taught me how to fix a toaster, build a fire, and tell a story. And he gave me a sense of humor that has helped me, on many occasions, find my way through a difficult time.
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