By Leah Nairn
Everyone loved my Dad.
Lying there unable to speak, peeking through his eyelids, he was still everyone’s favorite. “Gotta say goodnight to grandpa,” one aide would say before she ended her shift — even though he’d never been a grandpa. I’ve never married nor had kids, and I’ve been the only child of two parents aging in completely different ways for some time now. So yeah, it’s just me.
His passing was like his life, slow and measured.
He married my mother in his mid- 30s and didn’t become a father until he was 40. At age 45, he had a nervous breakdown from teaching math to middle schoolers. I remember him throwing up each morning before he went to work. After mom discovered he was suicidal with a plan, she insisted he see a doctor. That doctor concluded he could work any profession of his choosing, except education. Then suddenly, he was home all the time. He worked at the neighbor’s lawn mower repair shop for a summer, at some retail shops, and a few other places I don’t quite remember. He also spent about six years in therapy.
We moved from Columbus to his hometown of Newark, Ohio, in 1986. He took a job with the county aging program as the activities coordinator for disabled individuals caught up in the deinstitutionalization of mental asylums. I remember him stating no one wanted the job because they were all too afraid they’d have to change a diaper. He didn’t care.
With a county-owned van and a cast of characters, they went all over. Fishing at Buckeye Lake, to the mall, out for lunch. A few participants had our home phone number.
“Dad, Orville’s on the phone. He wants to know where you’re going for lunch tomorrow.”
He never had to change a diaper.
This led him to his best work: court-appointed guardian for the Licking County Probate Court. Ever the politician who was just too good of a man to get mixed up in politics, this was a perfect fit for him. He loved going to court and attending treatment meetings.
This also put to use his incredible ability to bullshit for hours on end. He was a publican, which lent him a lot of time and opportunity to hone this skill. The Eastern Bar and Grill on the east side of Newark was his watering hole of choice and the proverbial “Hub of the Universe.” It was the backdrop for his only actual stint in politics. Many locals with clout stopped in to share a pint and a chat. One guest in particular often stayed too long and eventually stepped down from the city council after he showed up drunk for a meeting. Dad was appointed to his seat.
He only served one term. His re-election campaign lacked luster, and I remember his opponent having billboards along the highway. Dad didn’t have the energy or the money to compete with that.
