Sunday, June 21, 2015




My ex use to get so mad that I would go to the Dallas feed store for dog food, knowing it was more expensive than at Walmart.

I love going to the dumps.  I went just last week with bulk trash other than brush.  Between the 15th and 20th the city picks up brush from the alley behind my house like clockwork.  Sometimes I put it out and sometimes I just take it to the dumbs. 

So what does this have to do with father's day?

Picture it, the Fourth of July 1962, daddy is sitting on the front lawn handing out sparklers.  Although I was only 4, I remember like it was yesterday.

Daddy loved going to the feed store.  He use to take me.  He would pick me up and put me on the loading dock, then walk around to the stairs and join me.  Daddy always had something to take to the dumps.  I would go with him.

I can visualize each of these events.

Yes, I was only 5 years old, 52 years ago tomorrow when he passed.   But I remember - so for me father's day more so than any other day I remember - and it is good.

I really hate people who fester over their childhood.  No parent is perfect.  Each generation had new rules to live by when it came to rearing their children.  But you know what, by the time you are an adult whatever you think your parent did wrong it is time to move on.

I have no negative memory of Daddy - but then I was only 5.  The older siblings tell stories about having to stay outside in the snow until the driveway was clean of snow.  They tell stories about having to care for the chickens. 

But daddy always took us everywhere - we saw the U.S.  - even when he would meet my sister Betty from a different mother in Lake Tahoe to go gambling, we went on the trip from Kearns, Utah, and stayed at the campground at night.  During the day he would give each of us a few nickels to spend in the arcade room for children.  It was not a rough time.

But then there is the story of daddy chasing one of my older brothers with a pitchfork.  That was Ohio - when daddy bought a house without indoor plumbing and had my older brothers help him to install the indoor plumbing.  I think poor mom - she came from a family with 7 maids and was living on a farm outside Cleveland in a house with no indoor plumbing, while daddy was at work at the airport.

He was a radio operator before radar.  They eventually all went to work for ARINC, while the government trained air traffic controllers to do the radar side. When he owned the land on Waco street between Waco and Morningside, he worked for Pan Am as a radio operator.  This was pre-radar, or about the time the major airports started to install radar. The older 5 siblings from Alice, his second wife - [mom was his fourth - a fact she learned of in 1959 right after we moved to Utah when Betty came knocking looking for daddy - ] tell the same stories of having to tend to the chickens before school. 

Daddies give us memories and lessons.  My brother in law who still lives in Brownsville tells me my sister Caroline was a work horse - she helped to build their first house.  She probably did not like when daddy was forcing her to learn these things, but in the end they made her life easier.  Back in the late 40's it was not unusual for people to build their own homes, It is still there on Washington street.

The pictures are of daddy as a merchant marine when he was taking supplies to England before the war in the late 30's.  A lot of merchant marines died at sea when the German U-boats would sink them.  It is sad we do not remember all of the men who died as merchant marines supplying England in the later 30's

The second is of my 4 older sisters in front of what I believe is Central high school.  For those of you who knew Caroline she is second from the left. The last is with my brother in Brownsville.


No comments: