“Any Man can be a father,
But it takes someone special to be a dad”
My Dad was that special man.
My Dad had a nick name for me; a “pet” name if you will….”Sweet bird”
For the first 11 years of my life, my Dad was in the Navy. I don’t remember him ever being gone to sea, but I do know there were many deployments during his 27 year career. My mother never drove a car, so if we ever went to the ship’s departure or arrival, I don’t remember it.
But we had many Holiday dinners aboard ships. My dad was a “Commissary man”; commonly know as the ship’s cooks. After he retired they were referred to as “Mess Specialists” and now they are called “Culinary Specialists”. Every year at Christmas, the families were treated to a feast of a meal which included all the Turkey, ham and trimmings as well as nuts and hard candies. The MWR or Morale Welfare and Recreation Department, provided presents for the children and a Santa to pass them out. The ship was always decorated with Christmas trees and other lights and decorations as well.
I was a pure Tom boy growing up. I would rather have cowboy hats, 6-shooters and cowboy boots than a doll. The last present I received on a ship was a “Fort Apache” cowboy and Indian set. Don’t get me wrong! I did have dolls. My Dad would bring back dolls from the countries he traveled to and they would sit on my dresser. Pretty, frilly dolls with lacey hats and dresses and curled hair.
My dad always told me that if someone was bigger than I was, Pick up something to hit them with if they were picking on me.
My Dad would take my mother to the bar for a few beers and come home “3 sheets to the wind” and sing…. “Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra”, “Oh Danny Boy”, “Me and My Shadow” or turn on the old reel-to reel tape player of songs…Like “Barnacle Bill the Sailor”. He had us kids recite
“Home is the hunter,
Home from the Hills
Home is the Sailor
Home from the Sea.”
My Dad always made sure I had a birthday cake for my birthday, even though it was so close after Christmas. The last cake my Dad bought for me was in 1979….I was 23 and getting ready to get married for the second time….to a Sailor.
As a toddler, before I started school, we lived in a 2 bedroom mobile home. The hall went through the kitchen and bathroom; placing the toilet and sink on one side and the tub on the other. My parents room was in the front of the trailer, then the living room and our room was in the back. My Dad mounted the TV on a shelf up high out of the reach of little fingers. I remember sitting on the couch opposite the TV watching “Captain Kangaroo”, “Poop Deck Pappy”, “Gun Smoke”, “Have Guns will travel” and “The Green Hornet”. Often times I either sat on my Dad’s lap when he was home, or on his big belly.
When we were young, we would go on vacation to my Dad’s hometown of Wellston, Ohio to visit his family. I always was allowed to stay with my Aunt Erma, my Dad’s oldest sister who had horses. I visited with my grandparents and remember well the sliding down the banisters, my grandfather’s spittoon, the old ringer washer, but most of all my Grandmother’s homemade apple butter, she stored in the cold cellar out back. My Grandfather had chickens he had named and they would strut when called, he had a black horse named “Blackie who chewed tobacco, and a massive vegetable garden with the best tasting tomatoes and cabbage. They had a swing set in the back yard right across the sidewalk from the garden. We would swing high, jump off into the garden, grab a tomato or a cabbage leaf and eat it (Heaven forbid) without even washing it off….All while Grandma was watching from her Kitchen window above the sink. I know that is where my Dad and his younger brother Paul learned their cooking skills…from their Mom and my Grandmother.
My Dad knew me better than anyone. In past blogs I have talked about all the sacrifices my Dad made for the 6 of us kids. He managed to find the money to pay for me to go to a Western ranch on Saturdays during the school year for over 2 years. At first I just went half a day on Saturdays. Then it was all day Saturday, and towards the end, I was spending Friday nights in the bunk house with a dozen or so others, caring for the horses and preparing them for the riders on Saturdays….Leaving late Saturday evening for home, happy and worn out. He scraped up the money to board a pony my Aunt brought us one summer when she asked me what I wanted…My Aunt actually brought 2 ponies but Dad had worked out a plan with the man who kept our ponies to swap some board for the Filly.
We had many, many dogs over the years…we’d bring one home and Mom always said no, but Dad always said yes…Sometimes, even he would be the one bringing them home. The saying was if it ate, or pooped we couldn’t have it….but we always had a dog.
My Dad was always working. He worked as a Butcher in a grocery store when he retired from the Navy for awhile but did not like the standards of the company. He thought they were lax and dangerous. He worked as a Bartender for 2 local bars; “The Casino” and “Allen’s Grill”; both in Chic’s Beach close to where we lived.
He worked at the Shore Drive Inn Theater; at night as a watchmen wandering the rows of cars and running the children’s train in front of the screen before the movie began….In the mornings with my brothers and I he would pick up the trash left behind and clean the office and bathrooms. It was a family affair. My mom worked in the ticket box, my brother and I worked in the Snack Bar when we were old enough. He set fishing nets and crab pots in the bay. And we had a lawn care business where my dad would take my bothers and I and a whole truck load of lawn mowers around to cut grass all day on the weekends and all week during the summers. It’s hard for me to think about this now, but all those places my Dad worked are now gone; the ships long retired. Even all the places I worked when I was young are gone.
Even though my Dad brought home less than $700 a month in pay, we never went hungry, or without anything we needed. The mortgage and bills were always aid on time, there was always food in the cupboards, refrigerator and on the table. Even Donuts, Ice Cream and bananas….which sometimes almost didn’t make it home from the stores with children eating them in the back of the car as he drove home.
My Dad was always there for me. When my first marriage broke up, he drove all the way to Marquette, Michigan to pick my son and I , and all our belongings up to move back in with them. I was 6 months pregnant with my daughter. When I went into labor, he told me to call an ambulance because he and Mom were at a friend’s home and he didn’t think he could get there in time….I wanted to wait for him…..until the ambulance he had called showed up.
my oldest and Chip’s oldest
My Dad was so proud of all his grandchildren. And sometimes, I think he was on the verge of having a heart attack when my children pulled some of their stunts….My son going into the back yard with a baggie collecting grass clippings and telling my Dad he had a bag of “Grass” (pot, marijuana)…My daughter climbing trees, fences, bunk beds flipping off the top and the wrought Iron Railing on the back porch to get on the roof….
And my Dad loved all of his great-grandchildren. Growing up in the 60’s, you just didn’t have black friends if you were white. But I did….and Dad was shocked when I brought one home once. But he approved of most of my friends . He did not judge my Daughter for having 3 mixed race children…They were his Pride and Joy….and you’d better not mess with them or miss-treat them.
The last time I saw my Dad, my Daughter , her family and I went to Virginia in 2003 for Father’s day….June 15th. I took my Dad a T-shirt that had one of those saying about being a grandpa….By this time, my Dad was spending more and more time in his room sleeping and only venturing out as far as the bathroom or the kitchen table. We went in to say Hello as soon as we got there and he hugged each one. While home for the week or two we were there, I washed his hair, combed and cut it, trimmed his beard and his toe nails. His skin was so thin that his toes bled when I held them. When he was awake, he wanted to know where “His Kids” (the great grand kids) were. I told him I had spoke with his brother Sonny, and they were planning a trip to see him the next month….He said “I won’t be here”. He had no other explanation than that. And I didn’t push it except to ask where he would be…and got the same answer again.
Not more than 2 weeks later I was back in Ohio where I live watching the “4th of July” fireworks display at the Fairgrounds 2 blocks from my house. They were playing a “Salute to the Military”, playing all the different branch songs. For no apparent reason, when they played “Anchors Aweigh”, the tears would not stop running from my eyes.
I walked home from the fairgrounds and no sooner walked in the front door of my apartment when the phone rang…It was my Mom…My Dad had died in the nursing home where he had been taken 2 days earlier that very day….How fitting for a man who spent so much of his life in the service of his country to die on such an important date in our country’s history. I cried so hard I couldn’t dial the phone to tell my oldest son the news….My Daughter took over. And the next day once again we all loaded into her vehicle and headed “Home”. I brought the T-shirt I had bought him and he had worn so proudly home with me.
I miss my Dad every day. In January 2008 something happened to remind me that Dad would always watch over me….I had a house fire in the place I was renting. Thanks to a neighbor who woke us up, my middle son, my oldest grandson and I all escaped without major injuries. There we stood in the snow on a cold January morning as all around us a flurry of activity of people helping us. I couldn’t think when asked where my husband and other son was….my youngest was at a “Cub Scout Training”, my husband at work. My middle son had some minor burns and smoke inhalation as did I. The firefighters and my neighbors recued all of our animals one by one….the only casualty being a parakeet.
But more importantly, none of my precious Family photos were touched!! A picture of my Dad as a boy sat not more than 2 feet from the kitchen that was completely destroyed, but not even the glass broke. On the computer stand, the printer was melted down to half it’s size, but beside it in a plastic recycled frame was another photo of my Dad….untouched.
Looking through those photos, I have very few with my Dad and I together. As I grew up, I was the one taking the photos…never in them.
Perhaps the thing that made me realize the most that my Dad was watching over me was this Glass ornament of Angels sitting on a lighted base that my Mother had given me….for 3 days, it would come on and light for a few minutes, then go back off….It still works today.
This Sunday is Father’s Day…..8 Years have passed since my Dad died.
I will Always remember my Dad….And I miss him so much….
I love you Dad!! Thanks for always watching over us….
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