Lately, I find myself pining for my father. A man ahead of his time in many aspects, my father was a loving dad. Louis J. Nowicki, was the first born of five into a Polish family. The first son of immigrant parents, he was raised in poverty as a child in Brooklyn, NY. He was a runner and one of the fastest in his school at the time. He was a quick study and enjoyed learning. His mother was nurturing and beautiful, albeit a bit eccentric at times. Though his father was an alcoholic, thankfully, my father did not drink excessively in adulthood. I believe he did not want to go down the same path as his abusive father.
Before my father launched into a lucrative career as an import-exporter, he worked with at-risk boys as a camp counselor. The camp included many sports such as swimming, baseball, basketball, boating and horseback riding. My father, the Brooklynite, took kids on trail rides! (Pretty amazing!) This city man –somehow knew– that horses help give children a strong connection with the natural world. Dad loved this job and he surely missed the emotional rewards that came with working with hard–to–reach kids when he went into business.
~Dad is in the center ~ baseball cap~
When we were young, my father was very active, he water skied, hiked, fished and loved the outdoors; he also enjoyed planting his annual vegetable garden. Marveling at the natural world around us, daddy imparted his insights to his children; my father was a naturalist.
My father’s love for the outdoors, clearly motivated him to send us to summer camp in New Hampshire, where we enjoyed horseback riding, tennis, drama, archery, arts and crafts, swimming, sailing, rowing and socializing. This was a kid’s paradise and my dad knew it. He knew how important it was for us to get out into the countryside and play in a natural setting. While, I’m sure he missed his two girls during the summer months, he made the emotional and financial sacrifice necessary to make us happy. And boy did it ever! Anticipation ran high during the school year as we waited – not so patiently – for those two precious months of sheer freedom and play.
While at school I may have been shy and perhaps introverted, at camp I exhibited strong leadership qualities with an outgoing, fun loving, personality. Popularity and friendship came naturally to me at summer camp. My father, who was a camp counselor in his youth, understood that this type of education could neither be taught nor bought. Camp was imperative.
“Come Chrissy! Let’s play catch! Keep your eye on the ball! Try this.” A high ball sent way up to the sky; I’d run to catch it. “Good job! Chrissy! Now let’s play tennis! Keep your eye on the ball, Chrissy. That’s it! Swing! Great job!” Lessons were often embedded in activities, my dad loved to teach. My father, who believed in a superior education, chose to settle his family in Port Washington on Long Island where the school district was known as one of the best in the 1960’s.
Daddy rarely yelled at us as children, he was more the gentle type. My relationship with him enjoyed a special bond, I suppose he appreciated my sense of humor. Every week after church choir practice, my father would take me to Howard Johnson’s for an ice cream soda. We’d sit at the soda bar and talk over that most delicious treat. Just my dad and me. This was a time of bonding and friendship.
My dad, I thought, knew everything. No matter what I’d ask him, he’d have the answer. Indeed he was very bright, but at times, he’d just make things up as we talked. I suppose the reputation of knowing everything prompted him to answer. I didn’t mind. Through a child’s eyes it was comforting to know that someone in the world knew everything!
A great storyteller, my father rarely read bedtime stories, rather he created a series of stories about a little mouse called Mousey. Little Mousey got himself into all kinds of trouble. Daddy didn’t write these stories down, nor did he need to, his creative mind worked each night to weave these fun loving tales for us as we drifted off to sleep.
Among other things, my father was well-read on nutrition. I suppose he was one of the first to own a juicer in the 1960’s. We took vitamins daily and he did not allow any junk food in the house. Fresh vegetables and fruit along with nuts and seeds were our treat. Sometimes he’d come home from work with a Tiger’s Milk bar for us to enjoy. In the evening, watching TV, our father would call out, “Who wants a nickel’s worth of sunflower seeds?” We gobbled those raw seeds up like candy. Dad knew that this was a health food but he would advertise it as some kind of treat. We bought it!
An innovative cook, my father created all kinds of tasty recipes, relieving my mother of this chore. Polish food certainly held the stage in our house. My father, who worked in Manhattan, would often walk blocks to speciality stores to bring us the best kieibasa and kishka. He made his own studenina (head cheese) in a pressure cooker. I was the only one who would eat all his delicacies. The studenina had tons of garlic and was to be eaten with apple cider vinegar – always – as instructed! Best of all, my father’s mother, occasionally made us pierogies, which my father fried in salt pork; now that was heaven on earth! I enjoyed these times of eating with him and made a point to do so in order to show my love and support for his efforts.
My father was a self-taught importer-exporter, wilding deals from Hong Kong to the Dominican Republic. He had a deep appreciation for other cultures and learned several languages along the way. He spoke some Japanese, Spanish, and of course Polish. He spoke to us in Spanish often. “A la cama! Chrissy. Dame un beso!” My father traveled the world and worked long hours in the city. I missed him and longed for him to stay home with us.
Louis Joseph Nowicki age 3 (?) ~ 1918
Louis was born in 1915 -a premature baby whom the doctors said would not live- he outlived all his brothers and his sister. I believe this had to do with his strong will and drive and of course those juices and vitamins!
I love you daddy and miss you even today.
Always yours, Chrissy.
In honor of my father, I am raising money for Documenting Hope. I know Louis Joseph Nowicki would be proud of my efforts!
