Dad celebrating his 90th birthday with co-workers and friends.
I find it sad that I never truly appreciated either my mother or father until they died.
I could start this chapter by describing my dad’s life; how he was the first son of a sharecropper farmer in central Texas during the dust bowl years; how his dad died when he was just eight years old; how his mom was left to take care of five young children with little help for two years. And how, in spite of all the hardships, each of the five children became successful. (My Dad and his sister Evelyn wrote a book about their story Hertha’s Family) I highly recommend it.
No I am going to start this chapter by talking about the quirky ways that Dad fostered a reliance on self and later on God.
When my Dad died, this was the picture that was on his night stand. Stephen and I are showing off the tandem bike that I made from two bicycles. I am 11 years old and not afraid to use power tools to cut a 2×4 to the length appropriate for the job – stabilizing the bikes. “Who lets their kids use power tools unsupervised?” – my parents, that’s who. I shared this with my sister Marcella and she shared her own story: Dad was working with the extension ladder at our Gales Ferry home when an accident caused a large gash on his left thumb. He found Marcella and asked for her assistance. “Your mother will be needlessly worried if we tell her I was hurt.” And so Marcella caught the dripping blood with towels as Dad stitched his thumb closed.
My mother was born and raised in south Texas (near Houston). Dad grew up in Central Texas (Fort Worth area). When Dad received the Naval orders to move to CT, he went ahead to purchase a house. My mother’s request was for the builders to leave a large rock in the front yard. They had grown up in a part of the world where large stones were a sign of great wealth. The CT builder laughed and said “…sure we can leave a boulder.” On the Sunday drives, both mom and Dad were impressed by the rock walls that had been built during the colonial period to clear the fields for planting. So Dad started to dig and collect rocks on our property for the wall that you see above.
All Are Welcome in my Father's House 