My dear Dad, Dennis Lynch, passed away at home on Monday, January 20th. He was 87. He’s survived by his wonderful wife, and my sister, my stepsister, and me and my wife.
In addition to being a Dad, he was a college professor, teaching radio, TV and film production. After officially retiring, he was a docent at the Carnegie Museum of Natural History, as well as active in local theater in Pittsburgh where he lived. He was always a great storyteller and introduced me to all the good funny things in life that I still love: The Marx Brothers, Pogo Possum, Bob Newhart, Jack Benny, and so much more. He could be a critical parent, but it came from a place of love. He was curious, exacting and loved a risqué story. I will miss him more than I could ever reasonably relate.
We had a remembrance get together “celebration of life” this past Friday. So many people came and so many stories were told. I want to believe maybe he was there, somewhere, offering, as a friend of his put it, some wry commentary on the proceedings.
Here's what I said on Friday night, at a gathering of something like 40 people. Maybe more. And everyone stayed for a couple of hours.
We are gathered here to have a celebration of the life of Dennis Lynch: raconteur, bon vivant, professor, the best story teller I knew, and my Dad.
Here are a few memories.
1969, Iowa City, IA: Teaching Max the family dog to bark to let us know that he wanted to go outside. Dad put Max outside, shut the door and then, Dad got on all fours (like a dog), and started barking. Max looked very confused. It didn't work.
1972, Lawrence, KS: As a kid, I had all those whiny kid questions like, "Why is it my turn to take out the garbage?" and "Why do I have to clean up the dog poop in the yard?" And the answer from Dad was NOT "because I say so." The answer was, beginning in 1972, "Because I have a PhD, that's why!" Because, finally, he received his degree from the University of Kansas that year.
1974, Shaker Hts., OH: Here's a little known fact: Dad was an inventor. He did, like all of us, hate TV commercials. So, he connected a wire from the audio jack in the back of our RCA Victor TV to an on/off switch that killed the "blabbing" commercials. He called it the "blab switch." And if he was out of range of the switch, and heard the commercials come on he would yell, "Hit the blab! Hit the blab!"
1983, Akron, OH: I took Professor Lynch's film production class at the University of Akron. We shot and edited a short film a week, showing it in class on Fridays. We learned that length does not equal quality. Dad would, before the class saw the finished movie, take the end of the film and walk to the back of the classroom, unreeling the film. If the the footage ended about half-way to the wall, he would say, "This is a B+, maybe even an A." If he was able to walk all the way to the far wall, he would say, "This is a D." The class laughed at the theatrics of this, but when the film was put back on the reel, threaded into the projector, and we all actually watched it; he was right. Shorter is better.
2007: After more than twenty years of renting in NYC, we decided to buy a house. My Father's advice: there are three things to bring when house hunting:
a compass - to see what part of the house received southern exposure;
a marble - to make sure it does not roll when placed on the floor;
a pencil - to take to the basement. If the pencil can fit in a crack in the wall, DO NOT BUY THE HOUSE.
10 Years ago: I thought he was going to die. His wife, Linda, had passed away, and he was having some health issues. But, as he told me, he was "not done yet." He met Barbara and had a happy marriage. I thank her for ten more years of Dad.
Dad had a lot of favorite things in life: Reading, Broadway (Sondheim, Lupone), E.B. White, Nero Wolfe, Orson Welles, Robert Flaherty, Tilley hats, Swiss Army knife, Craftsman tools, pepperoni pizza, a wee dram, The Quiet Man ("You've got a fine, steady hand."), a risque joke -- to name a few.
He would recount a scene from a documentary about the movie cinematographer James Wong Howe. There is a shot where James and Mrs. Howe are walking away from the camera. I think this was supposed to be the ending shot of the movie. Although there was to be no sound, there was a mistake: the microphones on the Howes were left on. Anyway, Dad could not tell this bit without his voice breaking. So, there they are, the Howes are walking away from the camera for what was supposed to be the beautiful ending shot of the film, and after a short time, Mrs. Howe asks James, "How long do we have to keep walking?" And James Wong Howe responds: "Until the man says 'cut.'"
But I don't want to end on this sad note. I have a joke. I was saving this risqué joke to tell Dad when I saw him, and now, well, here it is.
A man is in love with three women. He cannot decide on which woman he will marry, so he gives each of them $5,000 to see what they will do.
Woman #1 blows it all on a beautiful designer dress.
Woman #2 buys the man an expensive watch.
Woman #3 reinvests that $5,000, makes $10,000, and returns his initial $5,000 to him.
So the question is: which woman does he marry?
And the answer is ....
The one with the biggest tits.
Now I won't be able to tell this joke without MY voice breaking.
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