Louie Vaughan July 30, 1921 –February 8, 1998
Estranged most of our lives from each other, what I can recall of my Father, was heavily embellished by Mom, who often retold the stories, filtered with a bit of bitterness, anger, and possibly, some emotional fiction stirred in.
But I do know Dad was joker, a smoker, and at the risk of plagiarizing a popular Steve Miller song, I’ll just infer he was all that and of course, more.
He wanted to live large. He loved to imbibe. So he drank like a pirate, and swore like the sailor he literally was–until he jumped ship for shore to make some babies.
He drove long-haul trucks, short-run limos, and once punched Mickey Rooney in the face for not tipping him.
Last time I saw my father, was more than 20-years ago. I had just purchased a new Hasselblad camera and was beginning my career as a photographer. With a single roll of black and white film, I sought to understand a little more about him.
I saw myself come into focus, as much as I saw this familiar stranger with my last name. No question, this was Dad.
He passed shortly after these photos were taken. I can’t imagine Heaven not allowing cameras inside, so maybe some day, we’ll continue the conversation and I’ll get a better picture of just who Louie Vaughan was.
Happy Father’s day Pop.
Then one simply fixes the first term by changing one vowel.
And there you have it.