It started the day after Thanksgiving when my father would answer the phone with “Ho, ho, ho.” Up to that holiday, it was “Gobble, gobble, gobble.” As you can see my father got into the spirit of things.

My father Antone Medeiros, known in my hometown of Fairhaven, Massachusetts as “Hawk,” has been gone nine years now. But his spirit, his joy for the simple celebrations of life continue.

I can see him wearing his homemade holiday vest, and even a Santa hat, well, when he wasn’t wearing one of those cowboy hats he was known for.

Dad didn’t grow up with much. His parents, immigrants from the Azores, had a large family. They had chickens and large fields to grow vegetables my grandfather sold in a farmstand on the edge of their property. There were children who didn’t make it to adulthood after falling ill.

Unlike his father, mine never drank. I recall him telling me how he had to walk to the corner bar to fetch my grandfather, loading him onto a sled, and dragging him home in the snow. 

But Dad enjoyed being the center of attention, telling jokes and singing. In that photo above, my father did a belly flop in the snow as my mother took his photo. That’s my sister Christine on the left and me on the right. (He did that in pools, also.)

I honestly feel Dad could have been a movie star or a comedian, but he wasn’t an ambitious person. He supported his family — I have three siblings — as an autobody repairman, or tin knocker as it was called then.

Later, when St. Mary’s Church had an annual variety show for many years, he had an outlet for that kind of showmanship. My mother was there on stage with him, and later, my brother. Mom made him outrageous costumes, including for Halloween and town events.

Whenever Dad went somewhere and left our mother and us to wait in the car, we knew he wouldn’t be back any time soon because he would end up gabbing with people he knew. “Oh, he’s coming,” one of us would say as we watched the large window at Trippy’s Variety in North Fairhaven. “Oh, no, he’s not.”

For a few years, during the holidays, my parents along with their friends showed up late at people’s homes to sing, including one song in Portuguese, at their door, and they would be let in to schmooze. (My younger sister and I came along when we were little.) And I knew my Dad pretended to be Santa for holiday parties for kids in need.

Dad was a coach for youth sports in Fairhaven for many years: football, softball, basketball. He used to give the players on the peewee football team name funny nicknames like “Crazy Legs.” Many of his former players came to his wake. As they went through the receiving line, I asked each one what my father called him. They smiled and told me.

Perhaps, if you knew my father, you have a memory to share as well.

So, now, that it is Christmastime, I think of how much he enjoyed this time of year. It wasn’t about presents. It was about making other people feel good, making them laugh. Thank you, Dad. I haven’t forgotten.

And for those who do celebrate Christmas, ho, ho, ho.