I look at so many of the young fathers today and wonder how their kids will ever
make it as responsible citizens in this world today. Young men not holding a job,
drinking or doing drugs all the while yelling at the child - "How stupid can you
be?" or "Can't you ever do anything right?" They don't consider this as abuse because
they haven't touched the child. It may be verbal but it sometimes hurts as
much as some physical abuse. All too often though the child may get a good shaking or
a beating. As a teacher for many years, I saw some evidence of all types of abuse which was reported
and the children were removed from the home.
I am so thankful that I had the daddy that I did although I would
have liked to have had him around a lot longer - he died October 28, 1964 and I still
miss him.
My daddy had very little formal education as did so many in large
families during the time of the depression but he could do so many things much of
which was self taught. He worked for the American Viscose until they closed during
which time he also built houses with two of his brothers and an uncle so that my sister and I could
go to college. After the Viscose closed he and a cousin got jobs with MW Windows in
Rocky Mount, Va. He was working there when he dropped dead at an apple orchard where he
and his cousin had stopped for apples on the way home from work.
My daddy has been described as a saint by one of his sisters and
by one of my mother's sisters who met few people that she liked! My daddy never smoked,
drank, used dirty language, raised his voice to anyone, talked bad about anyone
or spanked us. Above all, he was honest and sincere. He bought
his first car for a few dollars down and a handshake! He was respected by all
who knew him. He was a wonderful father, husband, and neighbor! He was always there
to help anyone in need of a helping hand. I don't think my mother ever realized what
a gem she got when she married him.
My earliest recollections of my daddy are of following him around
when I was a toddler, climbing up on the roof with him while he was replacing the
old roof, and raking grass and leaves when he was working in the yard. I also called
him "Abbot" at this time because I couldn't say "Albert" but he never seemed to mind.
I have heard some people say that their parents dragged them to
church and they were not going to do their children like that. Well, when I was in
elementary school, we had a religion teacher who came in once a week and we had one
atheist in our class who went to the library at this time. Of course, being kids
we didn't even know what an atheist was until much later. My daddy also "dragged" us
to Sunday school, to church, and to youth meetings during the week. We survived it
and never had anything bad to happen to us because of it! Would you believe it -
we even had devotions before school, said the Pledge of Allegiance, and the Ten
Commandments were posted! Yep, we survived it all and we never had any weird thoughts
about killing a friend just to see what it was like to kill someone!
Once when I was rather small, a cousin and I were at the foot of the
stairs outside the basement trying to smoke an Indian cigar. My daddy came around the
side of the house as he came in from work and calmly asked, "What do you think you
are doing down there?" That was all he ever said and I know he never told my mother
because that would not have been the end of it if he had! We just wanted a hole to open
up and swallow us - not because we were caught but because we
respected him so much and felt we had let him down.
It was my daddy who kissed us good-bye before he went to work and who kissed us good night
before he went to bed. It was my daddy who baked the wonderful cakes for the
"care packages" when we were in college. It was my daddy who encouraged me in my art
and taught me to refinish furniture. It was my daddy who taught me how to strip old
wall paper - which is what we were doing when WWII ended. By watching and occasionally
helping him with projects around the house, I learned enough of his skills that my
sister and I were able to close in the back porch for a play room for her two boys and
their little friends. We placed the studs, set windows and a door, insulated,
carpeted, sided and painted. He also taught me to upholster furniture. All good things I learned
from my daddy by the example rather than by sermons, spankings or lectures!
My daddy, who recycled before there was such a word, made beautiful
bangle bracelets, pendants, rings and chains for pocket watches from scrap metal that never
loses its shine. He made hunting knives, steak knives, and butcher knives from old
cross cut saw blades and used scrap 1 1/4 inch hard plastic squares placed together and ground
down to shape the handles. He had the
first gear driven power mower on our street - recycling an old washing machine motor
and putting a platform on our old reel mower to attach the motor.
In addition to all of this, he had beautiful flower gardens, and on one of
the vacant lots in the neighborhood he always had a big vegetable garden which provided
us with canned veggies all winter and enough to share with some of the neighbors. He could
embroider in a way that the back of the work was as neat as the front - a skill that he learned
from his mother, no doubt. He was a deacon in our church until his death! It seems that
there was nothing he could not do.
If I could have one wish, it would be that every child could have
a daddy like mine!
n
