He would have been 85 today and yet it is hard to comprehend he was my age when he died. Twenty three years ago on January 23 just a few days after his birthday, my dad had a massive heart attack and died at the age of 62. He was one of the gentlest men I ever have known which was important since he had four daughters.
Dad had a comedic personality and did not know a stranger. He had lost his dad when he was around eight years old and my grandma never remarried. They were very poor and my dad as a young boy became the man of the house. He did graduate from high school but I know there had to be stories that were not told to his daughters. HIs orneriness was too well tuned for anything else.
He and mom married fairly young and I would have loved to have been able to watch those courting days. He was a nice-looking young man always joking and kidding and mom was much more by the book and ‘it’s got to be done right’. There had to be some interesting narrative on those dates!
Dad did not grow up in "church" and actually accepted Christ after I did at nine years old. After he became a Christian though his life truly was transformed. My mom had prayed for his salvation for years at her bedside and after his conversion he became the spiritual leader in our home. I always thought it was interesting that he had no example, no mentor, or online resources to help him yet he led our family around the dining room table in devotion time for years. He served in our little country church in about every capacity available—faithful for the rest of his life.
Dad worked at a bread company-Shipley’s Holsum Bread until the plant was closing down. He had to wear a white uniform-white t-shirt, white pants, white apron, and a white cotton hat each day. My sisters and I (well maybe just me) learned to iron by ironing his aprons and hats. Because of the bread plant’s schedule he was always off on Saturdays. That’s when my sisters and I really had fun!
He would take us to used car lots and always try to wrangle a deal. He took us to Kress’ and would buy us chocolate peanut clusters from the candy counter. He had us listen to country music although his favorite was gospel music. He would take us to “singin’s” and we learned to love the quartets and know them like family. He taught us to love old movies especially John Wayne westerns, Abbott and Costello, and the Road movies by Crosby and Hope.
He drove an old blue pick-up (the model and make seemed to vary but always blue for some reason) most of his life. When he would make the turn to come up the short road to our house, he would stop and wait for us to run down through the yard to either get in the back of the truck or ride on the side boards or maybe steering the truck the last few yards to the driveway.
There is so much more about Daddy. He was in constant pain the last few years of his life due to crippling arthritis but he never stopped. He was the “song leader” of our church and each week while the pain was noticeable he would still climb the steps to the platform. There would be much more to say about his willingness to help, to accept those who were different, and the lessons he taught about animals and gardening.
I guess there is not a day that goes by that I am not conscience of his teachings, his love, and his memory. I miss his laughter, his kidding, and his crippled arms giving me a hug. I do know this—if he were alive today we would be having a fun-filled, memorable birthday party—-complete with gospel music playing in the background!
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