Sunday, June 15, 2008


RRemembering my Dad on Father`s day, 2008

I wrote this a couple weeks go. Had trouble trying to post it earlier today.

Sunday, June 15th, 2008-- Father`a Day

Remembering my Dad.

He was born in 1903. He had 2 brothers and 2 sisters. He was the youngest in his family. When he was growing up, his father died , and later his mother remarried. My father told me that his mother married a Canadian Indian. I never thought to ask him what tribe his step father had belongd to. From the way Dad spoke I got the impression his step father was a good father to him. All I know is that all three(father, mother and step father) are burried next to each other in the same cementary that my parents were burried in, Plus my Mother`s parents were also burried there. But Dad`s 2 sisters and 2 brothers were burried in another cementary closer to where they lived on the farm. This is the same farm now owned by my oldest brother and his wife.

My dad was always a hard worker. After he graduated he went to work for the Union Bag Co. and when he was 21 he married my mother who was 20 at that time. He became a Mechanic and also changed jobs and worked as a Machinist in a local mill. He was a good provider for his wife and 7 children. I was the middle child in those 7.

He was a very loving father and no matter how busy he was, he would always stop what he was doing and give us his full attention when we wanted to speak to him. Many time he would be working under a car doing something, and he would slide out on his homemade wheeled platform just to see what we wanted. I grew up learning a little about cars because I was always asking him " Dad, what are you doing now?" He always took the time to explain what he was working on at the time. He never once told any of us to go play that he was busy. We always knew he loved us.

He had his idea of what was acceptable and what wasn`t and we knew enough to abide by his rules. But he wasn`t over strict. He was reasonable and met us half way and would listen to what we had to say. It was never his rule without hearing us out.
I remember the time I started smoking. I was right out of high ASchool and working as a Nurse aide at our local Hospital and a Dr there told me that it would help my nerves if I took up smoking. Noone knew the dangers of smoking back then. Well, we had an archway between the front room and the dining room with a scrolled wooden effect and often hung our coat on a hanger on the arch. The ciggs were in my High School jacket pocket. My Dad came into the kitchen carrying the pack of ciggarets and all he said was " Who`s are these?" I could have told him they belonged to my boyfriend and he would have believed me. But, I never lied to my Dad and asked him "Where did you find them?" He said - in your coat pocket. I then told him-- then they must be mine. My Dad just walked back into the other room and placed them back in my pocket where he had found them. He just wanted me to know that he knew. I never smoked in their house in respect for them, but I did smoke in their back yard. Others smoked in their house. If only we had known the dangers of smoking back then.

My Dad also helped many of the neighbors. There was this one neighbor whose husband died when her last two sons were real young- same age as my younger brother and I were at the time. One time their mother called my father for help to make the boys go to the barber for a haircut. My Dad told them if they didn`t have their hairs cut that week-end he would come over to their house and cut it himself and since he wasn`t a barber they just might end up with no hair left at all. You can bet they got their hair cut. I can`t remember my father ever raising his voice, even when he was upset over something someone did. But still his voice seemed to carry a tone that required respect from the one he was upset with. Some of our friends in the neighborhood called my parents Mom and Dad. They loved coming over to our house. My parents had a way to make anyone feel at home when they visited.

I remember one time when we were asked to bring in some item large enough to make a paper basket with. It was to be a mother`s day gift. I was in about third grade at this time. I noticed this large square can that used to hold candy delivered to the local station. I aske my father and he helped me cut off the top section and file it smooth so noone would get cut on it. Then I told him I would need some paint. He told me to check the cans of paint in the garage. I found a can of black and a small can of red and decided to paint that large can black and paint some red tulips on the can. My Dad got me some green paint for the leaves and stems. My mother had that paper basket sitting under the old sink for years until my Dad added on the larger kitchen with the modern sink.
Another time my younger brother wanted a toy rifle from Santa for Christmas. It was about 1938 or 1939. I was about 7 or 8 at the time. I asked my Dad if I could have the piece of wood he wasn`t using and I sawed it into the shape of a rifle and my Dad helped me cut out a finger place and a fake trigger. Then I painted it black. I remember watching my younger bro running around the yard playing with it. Sure didn`t take much money for us to find things to play with back then. Dad was always so willing to help me when I wanted to make something.

Years later he taught me how to prime our well pump when it quit working. When the furnace would stop working, he also taught me how to remove the furnace nozzle, clean it and how to re-measure all the adjustments before putting it back together. Seemed like the pump and furnace always acted up when Walt was at work. Dad would hop in his car and go to help anyone who needed help. He would explain things so clear to me that he never had to come to my home to teach me, I could understand what he was telling me to do on the phone. He would end up saying If that doesn`t work, call me back. If i had to call him back, the second time he always ended it by saying -if that doesn`t do the trick, let me know and i`ll make the trip up. He never did have to make the trip. He lived about a 30 minute drive from where we lived. Whenever I have a problem now, I sure miss not being able to phone him for his good advice.

I remember how he would never drive past a fellow wearing a Military uniform- he always stopped and gave them a lift-- often driving miles out of his way to get them where they were going. He had a great respect for them. My oldest and youngest brothers were both in the Navy. One time when he stopped my sister and I were in the back seat and I remember my sister saying she was staying by the window. So, this fellow had to climb in over her feet and ended up sitting in the middle between us. I remember feeling a bit nervous with a stranger sitting beside me, but I also knew my father was there so nothing bad would happen. He could make you feel so safe. Dad also wasn`t one who used cuss words. My parents felt that children learn what the hear and there was no bad language allowed at home. They taught us that if you wanted to be respected you had to earn that respect in the way you acted. My Dad was such a gentle man and he believed in treating others the way you would want to be treated.

Happy Father`s Day Dad. It may be 33 long years since we last talked, but you are still missed by all of us. When I wrote this, I didn`t know that Fred would be joining you in time for Father`s day. I know you and mother and Ken were there to greet Fred when he arrived. I am sure you are happy to once again be with him. Someday we will all be together again. Love and miss you all. What a happy father`s day for you Dad- seeing your first born again. But what a sad day for all Fred`s family, burrying their Dad a day before Father`s day. God Bless them all. Dad, the rest of your family misses you all very much. We love you all soo very much.

Dot, that was such a moving post about your dad. I always enjoy reading about families. I was very close to my father also, and it sounds as if the two of them (yours and mine) were alike in many ways. My dad passed away in 1994; he was 81. I miss him every day, but as you said we'll all be together again someday.

You take care, and I'll see you later. Thanks for sharing!
Sally, I lost my younger brother Ken in Jan. of 1994. He was only 60. Lost my Mom the next year- 1995.
My Mom was 4 days before her 91st Birthday. May is hard as besides Mother`s day, her Birthday was May 14th and she passed away on May 10th. My dad was only 72. Your dad must have also been a very caring father who was great at helping others.
My oldest brother Fred was born on Friday the 13th, and I was just thinking that it has been just 13 years between my Mom and my oldest brother`s passing. Fred always said that 13 was his lucky number.
Yes, we always miss the ones we love. Been 33 years, and like you, I still miss my Dad. Thanks for stopping by.
Great post Dot

Fathers are painted as the bad guy most times because they are not around most of the time because they work and when they are they tend to be the ones to administer the disapline but they are the ones that teach us many things that are usful down the road.
I don;t eat at restaurants thanks to my father who was a chef mostof his life.
He has taught me how to cook and he now likes the various other cuisines I make and share with my parents.
Ok they hate mexican because its to painful in the morning they say LOL

Thank you for this post.
You were so lucky to have a wonderful dad,you couldent have had better than that.
You said that right. My Mother would just yell and then when Dad got home from work, she would tell him what had happened and expect him to give the punishment. All he had to do was speak to us and that was enough. Another thing I learned from him was that kids hear you better if you lower your voice when correcting them. They get immune to the ones who keep yelling, but they seem to hear you loud and clear if you speak in a lower voice instead of yelling. I wouldn`t have my enjoyment working in my wood shop if he hadn`t allowed me to putter in his garage with his tools. He never discouraged us by telling us not to touch his tools like a lot of my friends fathers told them. Wish my mother was more like your Dad when it came to cooking. While growing up she wouldn`t let us touch the stove for fear we would get burnt. Might have been different if she had the more modern safer stove. I`m the only one she ever taught her way of cooking and baking her rice, so I am expected to cook it for every family doings.
Thanks Gazza. He was special and many of my friends used to tell me they wish they had parents like mine. A few even called my parents Mom and Dad. I know I was lucky even back when I was just a kid in school and saw how some of my friends parents treated them, or just acted like they didn`t exist. Some kids got into trouble because their parents didn`t care where they went, who they hung with, or what they did as long as they weren`t home under their feet. I felt sorry for them.
Dot!!!!!!!!!!!! Helloooo sweetest Dot! :) So nice to be back in a way..and I must say you have an awesome memory! I dont remember what happened 2 months ago...I can see yours is a very close knit loving family..stay blessed..Lots of love n hugs..hope your keepin well:) tc
That was a great Dad, dot !
Hello Cecilia. Nice hearing from you again. Hope you are feeling much better now. When you have a large family like I do, there is always something nice to remember. Hope you are enjoying your life and making more nice memories to keep. Lots of love and Hugs are being sent right back to you my friend.
Yes Jac, I was lucky and had a great Dad. I wish all kids could grow up feeling loved that much by their Dad.
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