My Grandfather

Today, I have a sort of guest blogger, although she doesn't know she's blogging for me. A year or so ago, my mother and her sisters decided to write down some of their memories of their mother for her 90th birthday. This year, she asked the kids to do the same with their memories of their father. I suppose since she paid the lion's share of my English degree, Mom felt like she had an editor on call. Actually, I was happy to do it and found it really interesting to hear some stories about a man I barely knew (he died when I was in 7th grade and lived down in Memphis, so I didn't see him that often when I was growing up). I'm sure that a lot of my interest in this comes from the fact that it's my grandfather, but I thought some of you might find it interesting as well. Anyway, I put enough time in on it that I feel a certain proprietary interest in it, so here it is, though I tried my best to leave it in her words. For the record, he was born in 1912 and worked on the highway, which caused the family to move a lot and/or him to be away from home.

Even almost twenty years after his death, I still find myself thinking of my Daddy: this hard-working family man gave me so much that I can’t help remembering him and missing him often. 

Dad always went to work early and worked hard. I remember hearing how he left home at 15 to get a job to send money home to his family. Later, he stayed on the job beyond the time when most men would have retired. He enjoyed what he did and he genuinely liked the people he worked with and they liked and appreciated him.

When jotting down my memories of Dad, my first thought was that he wanted all of us to get a good education. He stressed that we should always try our best in school. He would say no one could take away a good education from us. Dad himself never had the chance to go beyond the eighth grade because of the need to support his family, but education was still important to him, and he was an intelligent man even without formal schooling. I will always treasure a remark Charles Schubert made to me. He said Dad was one of the smartest men he’d ever worked with. He told me Dad could keep in his head all the information about the various pieces of equipment he serviced. Hearing that, I gained a new respect for Dad. 

Dad had a unique laugh—maybe it was more of a giggle. Whatever it was, he laughed often and made those around him laugh. He had a great sense of humor, or you might say he was a tease. One evening I remember him bringing home some tea in the jug he took to work. He asked mother what she’d done to the tea, because it didn’t smell right. After smelling it for herself—it definitely smelled off—she checked the tea in the pitcher in the kitchen. It smelled okay and Mother could not explain the smelly tea he’d brought from work. By this time Dad couldn’t keep from laughing. They’d had sulfur water on the job that day and he’d put some in the tea jar. All of us had a good laugh.

Even now, I often think of him, and it’s often the smallest things. Dad used to tell me that I walked like a duck. Every time I see my footprints or see my walk reflected in a mirror or glass door, I think of Dad describing my walk. He may have been teasing, but he was right saying I had a duck walk. 

I always think of Dad when I eat a piece of pie. Making a crust from scratch, of course, is a lot of work, and he knew it. Raisin pie was his favorite, but no matter what kind it was, when we’d have pie, he’d ask “If I don’t eat the paper plate [the crust] will you make another pie?”

Since Dad’s job had us moving to various places we got to see many points of interest. While in North Dakota he took us to Winnipeg, Canada for a weekend. On the way we’d stopped at the monument outside Rugby, ND that marked the geographic center of North America. Also while in North Dakota, we visited the Badlands and went to a rodeo where we saw Gene Autry. While in Louisiana we went to Baton Rouge and New Orleans. We also saw the capitols in Nashville, Charleston, Little Rock, and Columbus. I have a memory of him pointing out Truman’s home in Independence, Missouri and the Corn Palace in Mitchell, South Dakota. I always appreciated these experiences, especially when I taught 5^th grade social studies. 

Mother was the letter-writer in the family, but Dad did write and send us post cards to keep us abreast of where he was when work took him away. I remember getting a post card from Sioux City. I do have the special memory of receiving at least two letters from Dad, and they were always dear to me.

One Christmas when M______ was in 1^st grade and I was in 5^th grade, we were going home from Paragould. We’d taken the train to Memphis. Dad was arriving by train from Chattanooga to meet us there. We had been told to stay in the train station until Dad got there. Hearing the announcement of trains arriving, I decided we could go meet Dad as he got off the train. Several trains had arrived and there was such a crowd we couldn’t find him. More than once we went from the platform to the waiting room and back looking for him. We started crying and were two such pitiful-looking little girls when he finally found us that he wasn’t sure he wanted to claim us. We were scared and he was scared, and we got a good scolding for not staying in the station. 

No matter where we lived Grandpa N____ came to visit us. What a special time that was, as sometimes he brought peanuts he’d raised. Dad always valued Grandpa’s advice, and they were very close. Dad was twelve years older than Uncle J__, but all their lives they had a special relationship. J__ sometimes worked for the same company Dad did and lived with us. When Joe married and returned to farming, he always farmed Mom and Dad’s land. I know they trusted each other completely. Dad was also very supportive of his four sisters, including helping them to get educations. Big Mama and all of Mother’s family loved Dad and he loved them. He didn’t have to teach us the importance of family, because we saw it constantly.

I once heard it said that the greatest gift a father can give his children was to love their mother. Daddy certainly gave us that gift. We knew Dad loved Mother and that he loved all six of us. When we visited after leaving home, Dad and Mom were always glad to see us. 

Dad, you were the best and I still miss you!

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