The vast majority of people in my life currently never got to meet my dad, Terry Michael Covel (nice Irish name on a nice Jewish boy, eh?). He died when I was 15, but I’ve always said he gave me a whole lifetime of love and advice in those 15 years. Here are a few of his quotes, most of which I know he didn’t make up. He was quite fond of ascerbic platitudes. Happy Father’s Day, Daddy!
If a Covel daughter complained “that’s not fair,” she would get:
If life was fair, there wouldn’t be wheelchairs (tough sentiment to hear when you’re 8) or if a frog had wings, he wouldn’t bump his ass a’hoppin. (Although I never heard it, my mom said his adult version was: If my aunt had balls, she’d be my uncle.)
If we wanted something that wasn’t possible:
If wishes were horses then beggars would ride.
If we said we “didn’t mean to,” we got:
The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
When going up a steep hill, never get off the bike.
As tough as the going is, the load is more cumbersome pushing it than riding it.
Stop at scenic views.
We never flew. Every time we went to my grandparents in Florida, then N. Carolina, we went by car. We stopped at every scenic view to take pictures. EVERY scenic view, till we begged him not to. Even then it was every other. They were beautiful, and worth stopping for.
Service, to country and community.
He was ROTC in college, even knowing that would send him to Vietnam (I was born while he was there, he met me when I was seven months old). He served on the board of the community access cable channel, even though we didn’t have cable. He was appointed to and served on the Columbus School Board, but was a lousy politician and wasn’t elected to serve a full term after.
Wit disarms people.
Keep confidences that don’t need to incur your spouse’s wrath.
In college, I was watching a movie with my mom, and I complained about the fake blood. “Remember when I put my hand through the back door’s window? I didn’t get a scratch.” My mom said I never did such a thing, and I realized he had never told her.
So I told her:
My sister had locked me out of the house, I was pounding on the back door, and my hand missed the door and went through the glass. When Daddy came home, he went to hardware store (no Home Depot then), got a pane of glass, and installed it before my mom came home. Never told her.
After she heard this story, she shook her fist at the ceiling, smiling.
“Wait,” I said, “did Daddy tell you about the couch-bed?” “What about the couch-bed?” Well, when I was in the sixth grade or so, my friends and I were jumping on the couch-bed, and we broke a corner spring. Daddy rigged it up with a wire hanger. Never told her. Love that man.
If you have a memory of my dad, please leave it below – I’d love to hear it and share with his grandkids.
5 Comments
We had just moved into our Bexley home when your dad came to help rip out the carpeting. Rachel wanted to help. I have a forever memory of your dad and Ken finishing ripping the carpeting out carrying it outside between them. Did I mention that your dad had balanced Rachel on his shoulders to allow her to “help” with the project. I can still hear the giggles between the three workers. A job well done and a forever cherished memory!
Terry (my brother) was a man of action, of solutions. I remember as a senior in high school and the starting heavyweight on the wrestling team when the coach put my little (10th grade) brother in the ring with me. No one else could beat me, but Terry did. He tickled me into submission. He found ways to succeed, even when the odds were seemingly stacked against him.
Some years ago I got a call wanting to know if I knew Terry Covel. It was his radio man in Vietnam who was passing through town. When I told him Terry was gone he told me this story: The company was pinned down in a rice paddy at night. They had taken wounded and wanted to evacuate but couldn’t do so with wounded. Terry was the company commander and called in a med-evac helicopter to take the wounded. The helicopter turned on its landing lights but the light exposed the company to withering fire so the landing was waved off. After several unsuccessful attempts Terry concocted his own unique solution. He moved alone about 50 yards away from his company and shined his flashlight straight up after instructing the pilot to leave the landing lights off and come down on the flashlight. He brought fire in on himself to spare his troops and to get the helicopter down. It worked. The wounded were evacuated and the company pulled back safely. The man of action and solutions was also modest. He never told me this story. I had to hear it from one of his men, and from this same individual I heard what a beloved company commander he was.
But for the tragic accident that took him away so early, I would have known your dad really really well by now. Your mom and dad were among the first friends that we made when we moved to Columbus in 1982.
I loved hearing some of these sayings. Some of them I heard. Some of them just fill out the Terry I knew a little more. He was a man of infinite good humor (in my experience) who always did for others.
I have enjoyed watching you and his other daughters grow into your corners of the world, being a great credit to him.
Indeed, I have no doubt that he gave you a lifetime in those 15 years.
You were lucky to have such a great dad — and as a dad, your recollections inspire me to try to be an even better dad than my kids say I am. . .
He was a gentleman in every sense of the word, and no effort was too great, not only for the people he loved, but for the whole community around him. The school board thing was typical. He didn’t want to do it for the ego or for the power, he wanted to give something back to the community around him and share ideas that would help kids from every background.
He would have loved seeing the grandchildren that now carry his legacy, and he would have been incredibly proud of his daughters and their families.
I can still picture the smile and the humor, the love and all that went with it.
May his memory always be a blessing…
I remember my beloved cousin, Terry as a complete human being. He was funny (so funny), serious, loving, kind, gentle and silly! I was very young when Terry and his brother, Jeff would come over to my house for Friday night dinner. Always, the two of them would end up wrestling on the floor with our dog, Schnopsie. This wouldn’t seem strange except for the fact that Schnopsie was a little dacshound. My mother and your grandmother would both be screaming at the boys to stop – they were going to hurt the dog’s back. Well, they never hurt the dog’s back. It just became the ritual after dinner on Fridays. I don’t know what was funnier – the two of them rolling around with this little wiener dog or the two sisters screaming at the top of their lungs.