I Remember Daddy.... Part 4

This is forth in a series of friends’ fond memories of their dads and the lessons that they learned from them. I hope that you have enjoyed them as much as i have enjoyed collecting them...(see Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.  Happy Father's Day.  bd

JED reminisced, “Several memories come to mind.  As far as I know, dad never played organized sports of any kind and yet he would throw the baseball with me when I played Little League.  Looking back, I realize that you don’t have to be good at something, or even like it, to take an interest in what your kids are doing.  I guess that’s why I try to go hunting with my son as much as possible even though he’s way more excited about it than I am."

  

"I also remember a time when dad went in half on a boat with me.  It was more like 30/70 because I paid $250 for the motor and dad paid $600 for the boat.  He was not an avid fisherman, but I can remember many fun-filled trips to Lake Juliette, even though we didn’t catch very many fish.  Lastly, I remember one fishing trip when I told dad I knew a short cut off Hwy 96 down a dirt roads.  I got turned around and the next thing I know, dad got the old 78 Toyota truck stuck in a mud hole.  We tried everything we could to get that truck out, to no avail.  I never once saw my dad get angry nor did he blame me for getting him lost.  We simply walked until we found some loggers who were kind enough to drive back to our truck and pull us out with a skidder.”

MBR remembered, “When I think back on my childhood the memories that stand out for me is when my Dad was saved. The complete transformation from a drunk and a chain smoker to a man who went to every service he could find and he prayed all the time. He never drank or smoked again after that week. I knew without a doubt then that there was indeed power in the blood of Jesus. Then I remember my grandpa and grandma always prayed for my dad. When I doubt what God can do in my situations I have proof of the power of prayer and of what mighty things God is willing to do for me!”

“We would go by for a visit and we could not carry on a normal conversation, but when someone began to talk about church or the Lord, his eyes would light up and he would raise his voice.  I could understand him then.  The tears flowing from his eyes let me know what he was feeling in his heart.”

JMH said, “Wow! I have so many memories of my Daddy. We were very close. One special memory is of just the two of us getting up before dawn on Saturday mornings. I would “help” him hitch up his fishing boat, load up our gear, and pack stuff for lunch. (Always sardines and white bread just in case we didn’t catch anything big enough to eat.)”

“We’d sit in that boat for hours on end. He’d try to pull up close to a shoreline under some trees whenever possible – after he rattled the branches with the oar to be sure no snakes were napping on them.”

“About noon we would pull into shore. He would build a fire, take out his trusty iron skillet, jar of cornmeal mix and a jar of cooking oil. He’d clean the fish and fry them and hush puppies over the open fire. I can remember watching them fry with anticipation (and hunger). Those fish always tasted better than fish we fried at home somehow.”

“I learned soooo much from my Daddy. Integrity for sure: keep your word no matter what, always tell the truth, always be honest in dealing with other people, do your duty, make hard choices based on right and wrong – not emotions, take care of your family, trust and obey God even when it is hard.”

BTL told me, “I feel that the greatest thing that my dad did for me was to teach me about Jesus. I remember going back to the area where he grew up as a child and experiencing swimming in the springs that he swam in as a child.  I cherish having gone with my dad to visit and pray for the sick, as a very small child. My dad taught me to give my tithe to the Lord, be honest, treat others the way I would want to be treated, and to work hard to provide for my family.  I learned how to fish, change a tire, and yard work from him.” 

“My dad was a very humble person.  He was a great pastor, and he was my best friend”

Until this morning, I had intended to not add my own thoughts since my father died when I was two.  I don't really remember my  Dad.  This morning I am reminded of two things about my Dad.  When his mother died, he spent many years paying off the family debts.  He did this not just because he would inherit the family farm by doing so, but to protect the family name.  The second thing is that he made preparations for his wife and sons in case anything ever happened to him, they would all be protected. 

I hope you have a wonderful Father's Day.  If you still have him, give him a call or go see him.  Feel free to post a fond memory of your dad in the comments 

I Remember Daddy....... Part 3

This is third in a series of friends’ fond memories of their dads and the lessons that they learned from them. Past 1, Part 2   Bill

EPM wrote, “When I think of my daddy, I really don't have one vivid story to recall that sums up in a nutshell the person he is.  Daddy is not known for his dynamic personality or his way with words.  He's always been a man of few words who loved his family, the outdoors and his church.  Two words that he always uses to describe me became my official title whenever he saw me. I am his "sweet baby".  Since I was a little girl, that is what he called me and he still refers to me that way.” 

“I must admit, as an elementary aged child I would sometimes get embarrassed when he would call me that In front of my friends.  On one particular occasion when I was in the second grade, mama told me she was coming to get me early because we were going out of town.  When I realized daddy was also going, I asked if he could come to my class to get me so all my friends could see my daddy.  All the children knew mama because she was always a grade mother, but not everyone knew my daddy and I wanted them to see how wonderful he was!  Well, in those days parents could just come to the classroom to get their children and it just so happened that my teacher was our neighbor, so she welcomed daddy in and introduced him to the entire class.  It was at that point that those two words came out of his mouth, right there in front of about twenty or so of my classmates when he said, "Well, thank you Mrs. Meadows (my teacher).  Come on Sweet Baby, we better get going." 

“My classmates giggled and I was mortified......mama said she could tell as we walked down the sidewalk toward the car, that something was wrong by the way my ponytail was swinging from side to side as I stomped towards her.  I told her what had happened and she assured me that everyone's daddy called them something like that and no harm had been done.  I wasn't so sure, though......I do believe I remember a couple of those pesky little boys in my class calling me that a time or two after the incident.”

“Today nothing has changed.  That sweet, sweet daddy of mine still greets me the same way, although I do believe now some precious grandchildren of his might hold their own title in his heart.  Sweet Baby; it is a title I adore now. Funny how wisdom comes with age.”

LCH wrote, “When I was in grammar school, I had never been to a summer camp and, living in Allentown, there was NOTHING to do in the summertime.  I was a school bus Safety Patrol on my daddy's school bus so one Summer I went to Safety Patrol Camp at Lake Blackshear in Cordele. I was so very homesick and wanted to go home every day, but every day I'd tell myself, I'll call my parents tomorrow, and that's how I got through the week! When we got back to Dublin at the pickup point for parents, my daddy and mama were there, but my daddy just hugged me and was patting me on the back so hard!! At that moment, I realized that he had missed me as much as I had missed them! I can see all that in my mind's eye! I hope that vivid memory never goes away!”

SWM remembered, “My Grandfather was a Christian man, but he was tongue-tied and could not speak very plainly.  He did not know how to show his love or emotions very well, but when I would hug him goodbye, I knew that he loved me.”

To be continued….

I Remember Daddy.... Part 2

This is second in a series of friends’ fond memories of their dads and the lessons that they learned from them. Part 1 Bill

BG told me, “What I remember about my Daddy is that he never raised his voice or his hand toward his children.  He took us to Daytona Beach every year, as he really enjoyed the dog races.  I enjoyed watching the Braves on TV with him.  He was about 48 years old when I was born, so we did not actually do a lot of stuff together.  He would take my mother and me to our favorite fishing spot, then sit and watch until dark when mamma would finally be ready to go.   Finally, I remember being in the hospital room with him while doctors explained to him the operation to remove a brain cancer and seeing tears roll down his face.”

CBG wrote, “My daddy passed away when I was 18 years old and I always think about how much more I would have liked to have known him after my crazy teenage years were over.  What I value and remember most about him was what a hard worker he was and his strength of character.  He was a man of few words but when he did speak, you listened.  A couple of things I believe I learned from him that stands out the most are, you have to keep your word and punctuality.  He always had to be early for an event or appointment, not just on time but a good 30 minutes to an hour ahead of time, never late.  One more thing that comes to mind; he smiled most when children were around.  As I look back after all these years, I remember those were the times I heard him laugh.  I sure do miss him.”

This is what JSM had to say about his dad: “My dad was one of those people that was short with word and did not tell people how much he loved them. One day when he was getting on up in age he and I was sitting around chatting and he told me how he love me. He often put his arms around me but the word love was seldom said.

“I learned from him to be straight up with people and be honest. I love my Dad.  He was a good man.”

To be continued……

I Remember Daddy.......

Several weeks ago, my Friend, Ben, told me about something his daughter said many years ago.  She crawled up in his lap and said, "Daddy, I Love you"!

Understandably, I am sure that his heart just swelled because of the smile on his face as he told it.

She went on to say, "I love you because you take out the trash and kill all the roaches".

I thought that this was a touching story and it made me think that we don't really know what our children think, nor how what we do and say to them affects their thoughts; their lives.  I decided that during this year's bible school at church, I would ask several children about their fathers and see what kind of response I would get.  I ended up asking adults about their fathers instead.  I asked two questions:

                What is the most vivid memory of your dad, especially when you were small?

                What did you learn from your dad?

I got more answers than I expected and I will share at least some responses here over the next few days.  I will only use their initials, since I did not ask them about publishing their names.

One friend, SWM, said, "When I was a little girl, we didn't have a car.  My daddy was going to walk to the store, which seemed like it was two miles away, (it probably wasn't that far, but it really seemed like a long way to me).   I wanted to go too, so he let me walk with him.  Daddy was a fast walker and I couldn't keep up with him, so I grabbed his back pocket so that I could stay close to him.  I surely must have been thinking, 'daddy, don't walk so fast', but I knew that he was not going to leave me behind."

“My Daddy was a hard-working man.  He only had a 2nd grade education and could only write his name, but not very well.  He never had many earthly possessions, but he was always willing to share what he had, and was always willing to help someone.  He was one of the hardest working men I have ever known, but he didn't really need a lot of money to make him content.  He let my mother pick up his paycheck and would never even ask to see it.  He would let her pay the bills and use the money as she saw fit.  I never remember hearing my daddy ask for anything.”

 

SB said, “My Dad was my best friend.  I could talk with him anytime about anything and always felt much better, even though he might not always agree with me. He was a very humble man and very dedicated to the ministry.  He taught me the value of a Christian home and the importance of family time.  He loved God first and then his family.  I loved him very much.”

To be continued………….

Father's Day! Call or Write.....

The basics of this post was written for Father's Day in 2005.  I have brought it up to date, but the core of my feelings from then hasn't really changed.

Not long ago someone asked me what I was going to say about Father’s Day.  Although they could remember several things I had written about Mother’s Day, they said that they couldn’t remember me ever writing about Father’s Day.  I don’t think I ever have. 

Since my dad died when I was just over two, Father’s Day was not a big deal at the Davis house as I was growing up.  It just wasn’t. 

Until I was in my late teens, I thought the concept of fatherhood was overrated.  I thought, “Hey, I’ve never had a father and I am just fine.”  I finally began to get into and understand the traditions of Father’s Day after I married, since Deborah’s father was very much alive.  (This will be her first Father's Day without him.) 

After the birth of our daughters, all of a sudden, fatherhood became a serious responsibility.  I didn’t think that I had a good point of reference for what a father should do, how a father should act, or how a father should “be,”  but I was, of course, wrong.  I had all kinds of models to look back on and learn from.

My brother, Jim is 13 years older than me.  He taught me how to shoot a gun, ride a bicycle, change gears with a straight stick and a thousand other things that daddies traditionally do.  He did this in spite of the fact that I ran around his car with a rake and melted the buttons on his car radio with the car cigarette lighter.   

Uncle Freddie, (my Mother’s brother,) gave me a love for the smell of fresh sawdust.  He taught me how to drive a nail without bending it and how to saw a straight line with a handsaw.  He built a wagon for my goat (Carol) to pull.  He built a downhill racer (Nellybell) that I rode down the old clay hill near my house for years. 

Jack Towns (daddy Jack,) a neighbor and friend of the family from church, tried to teach me how to milk a cow and goat.  He also demonstrated how to slaughter chickens and turkeys for food.  I never got the hang of any of this, but that wasn’t his fault because he tried. 

J. B. Hobbs taught me about planting corn, squash, beans and tomatoes.  He let me ride with him on his tractor and in the back of his truck occasionally.  He built the first homemade butterbean sheller on Chicken Road.  

Hilton Perdue and his wife, Alice took me fishing and taught me how to bait a hook and clean fish.  He also took me to his daddy’s house so I could see him make cane syrup.  It was amazing to a little boy like me.  His cane mill was powered by a belt wrapped around the back wheel of his 1928 or 29 model-A Ford truck. (I’m not that old.  It was a really old truck even then.)

Kannah Belflower was a physically imposing but soft-spoken man in my church.  He always asked me about what was going on in my life and he always seemed to know when I needed an encouraging word.  I learned from him that kind words are appreciated by practically everyone and we should take the time to give them.

When I began to think about it, a lot of men, particularly from my home church, stepped in and gave of their time to do fatherly things with me and other kids that needed it.   Half of these men are long gone and I never even thought to tell them thanks for all that they did for me when I was growing up.  I should have, but just never did.  

If your father is still around, by all means spend some time with him this weekend and let him know how much you love and appreciate him.  It would also be nice to call or send a note to those other men that have gone out of their way to do fatherly things with you or someone else who needed it.  It will do you good to say it and you don’t know how much they might need to hear it.

Gentle Nudges

Although it has been a couple of weeks, I still have Father’s Day on the brain. Father’s Day was never big to me growing up because I lost my father at 2 years old. It became a big deal when I had children of my own.

The week leading up to Father’s Day is when we traditionally have Bible School in Empire. I don’t think that I have missed a Bible School in my church in the last 50 years. I have gone from student to adult helper; from puppeteer to sound technician and photographer; from a barefooted kid with a crew cut and mischief in his eye to a grey-headed old guy with, well, oh never mind.

There were more than 20 adults that were involved this year with some aspect of Bible School. TWENTY! I couldn’t help but think about what impact that week would have on the children. We had a dog mascot; one night we had a roman soldier, a super hero maintenance man and pizza delivery guy. Oh yes, we also had “water woman.” More than a dozen gave of their time to cook, do crafts, and lead in group games. All of these people had other things to do, but came to make a difference. I also thought about the fact that a lot of parents, some of which I didn’t even know, were entrusting the lives and minds of their precious little ones to us. What a responsibility! Were we up to it? Was I up to it? I wasn’t teaching, but I was there, trying to help in some small way.

When I was growing up in this church, there were many people who looked after me, influenced me, and nurtured me. Bible school was small, and led by a handful of moms like mine. When I became a teenager, Bible school was less important to me. Even with good upbringing, I had become a troubled youth. I don’t remember a lot about that time, but one man stands out as a voice of encouragement to me. He was not a Sunday school teacher or a minister. He didn’t sing or lead the choir. He was an old railroad man with a red face and rough hands. His name was Kanah Belflower.

Mr. Kanah was not always there. His job took him away a lot. Like a lot of other men that farmed, and such, he missed a lot of Wednesday night services. In fact, he was not there every Sunday night. But Sunday mornings after church, he’d always find me and ask what was going on in my life. He didn’t miss much, but he never mentioned my somewhat long and unkempt hair, or my clothes.

“Hey, boy, don’t you have some new wheels on your car?” or “Wasn’t that a new girl I saw you with last Sunday? She sure was pretty!”

When I answer that she was pretty, but had dumped me on Monday, he’d respond with something like, “Oh she’s just immature. She probably wasn’t your type anyway. When you find the right one, you’ll know.”

I am sure that the man I knew from church was quite different from the man his children knew. He was not responsible for me. He didn’t have to do anything, but he did. I can’t think of anything that he did that was openly intended to influence me. I was just a wayward teenager that most adults avoided or admonished. He gently nudged me along in the right direction and expressed interest in my life like no other.

As I saw those kids in Bible school, I wondered, who is their old railroad man? Who is gently nudging them in the right direction? Do they see me as one who cares about their well being, or am I just a white-headed, grumpy old man with a sore back and a bad attitude?

I always look forward to Bible school, but I don’t have to wait till next year for Bible school, or Father’s Day to do something. I can encourage, I can nudge, and I can overlook a lot and give a word of encouragement or at least a smile. You can too. Mr. Kanah would like that.