Dad, Frosty, and Me

Frosty the Snow Cone Man proudly sits on top of my refrigerator. I believe he’s considered an antique now, as am I. Frosty is a plastic toy from my childhood. He was sold in the 60s as a gadget to help kids make snow cones…and friends (according to this advertisement). I don’t remember the commercial, or an influx of friends, but I know I begged for him and my parents caved and got him for me.

He must have been a present for my July birthday. Like most kids with a new toy, I loved him, used him for a while, then when the pre-packaged juice he came with ran out, I used him less and less, and pretty much forgot about him…for decades. Then I spotted him in my father’s workshop.

Dad’s workshop was a little corner of the basement where he took things to fix and shoes to repair. His famous refrain was, “You don’t need a new pair of shoes, I’ll fix these!” I remember being in fifth grade and horrified at my black loafers sewn with thick, waxy white thread, which he tried to cover up with shoe polish. God bless Dad, he was a master bricklayer and stone mason, but shoemaking was not his forte.

The workshop was cluttered with nails, screws, bolts, dust, various tools, and a St. Joseph statue from some nativity scene of the past. It was where Dad kept his old army locker still filled with a scratchy, green army blanket, his canteen, his mess kit, an old gas mask, and his musty army tent.

The workshop also served as the barber shop area where my dad gave my brothers terrible army haircuts and even cut my hair every summer (mine were slightly better). Walking in there was like walking into a time capsule, there was a lot to take in.

I must have been looking for something on one of the shelves lined with yellowed newspapers, when I discovered Frosty sitting toward the back on an upper shelf. I let out a delighted squeal of, “Frosty! Oh my God!” My dad was in there with me and he had kind of a sheepish look on his face. He looked at me with a shy smile and said, “Yeah, I kept him for you, kinda silly huh?” I was emphatic, “No, it’s great!. As I pulled Frosty out and saw he was covered with dust, I realized how long he must have sat there. I gushed, “Thanks Dad, I loved Frosty! I’m so excited! I’m going to take him back with me to California! Awww, thank you for keeping him.” I think I hugged him in thanks…I hope I did, in my head I did.

I got Frosty off the shelf, cleaned him up, glued together his little red plastic hat that was falling apart and put him in a place of honor, on top of my refrigerator. He’s missing the small plastic bottles that went on either side of him and his red shovel, but I still love him.

My dad’s been gone for 13 years, and every time I look at Frosty, I remember the sweetness of that moment. I remember his bashfulness at me seeing that sentimental side of him and me being touched that he would even think to hang onto a long forgotten toy. It was such an intimate moment, a father remembering one of his little girl’s favorite toys and wanting to hang onto it and keep her that age for a little while longer.

That’s why I keep his St. Joseph statue on my desk. It’s a small reminder of him, the guy who did his best to fix things, but wasn’t always great at it. This, and every Father’s Day I miss his quiet wisdom and that tender side of him that always listened and sweetly held onto a reminder of me.

I wish all you dads and step-dads a very Happy Father’s Day. Enjoy your kids, they’ll be writing blogs about you before you know it! And hang onto a beloved toy for them. I guarantee they’ll appreciate it.

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