D is for Daddy

 My father, or Daddy as I called him, passed away 12 years ago this week. He was a good man and is missed every day. He was an avid gardener, and since the garden season is upon us, I thought I would rerun this post about his gardening. 

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Daddy's Garden

For most of my life, I watched my father's garden, and I learned a lot about life as I observed him adjust to the ever-changing world around him. 

He usually had an acre or more of vegetables growing every year, and I watched as he spent hours and hours, days and days, and weeks and weeks planting the garden. He'd plant 20 rows of corn, and the crows would eat 20 rows of corn. He'd plant beans, and the rabbits would feast on the leaves. He'd plant tomatoes, and the groundhogs would take one bite out of each. And the deer—they liked EVERYTHING in the garden. 

So he put up an electric fence. That worked except for the things that could go under it, like the rabbits. Then he put up a chicken wire fence inside the electric fence to keep those critters out. And that worked except for the creatures that burrowed under the fence like groundhogs. So, he buried fencing a foot underground, which worked for the digging critters. Now, all he had left were the flying creatures. So, he put up scarecrows and shiny streamers, and that sort of worked, except for the wild turkeys. And turkeys are like the deer in that they like EVERYTHING in the garden. Turkeys are really smart, and for several years, the turkeys did more damage to his garden than all the other animals combined.

But yet he kept on. He would plant and plant again. He would hoe a row, and he would weed a row. He would stake the tomatoes and build teepees for the beans. He would fertilize, and he would carry water. And along about the middle of summer, the first of the bounty would need to be picked and picked and picked. And my father was happy. 

As time passed and the kids moved away from home, my father planted his huge gardens. He gave away most of what he grew, but he was happy. My mother finally convinced him that maybe the two of them didn't need such a large garden. It was hard, but he cut back. He adjusted just as he had when the crows ate all of his corn. And then, because of failing health, he had to move to a nursing home, and he was not sure if there would be a place to plant a garden where he was. However, he adjusted, and he was happy.

When I grow up, I want to be like my father and his gardens. I want to do things when they need to be done, just like my father did when he had to water his plants when they needed it, not just when he felt like it. I want to keep working on anything important until I get results, just like my father did when he had to plant his corn again and again. I want to adjust to changing situations just like my father did when he had to downsize his garden. And most of all, I want to find a way to be happy in any situation, just as my father did when he had to leave his garden and couldn't live at home any more.

Note: My father passed away two months after I wrote this.

Until next time...

Happy Father's Day

Happy Father's Day to all the fathers and father figures.

I was looking through old Father's Day posts to see if there was something I wanted to use again, and I found this from last year. 

"Today is Father's Day. We're going to celebrate with my father-in-law and Ward's siblings. Yesterday, Ward, Wally, and Theo celebrated while I was at work. They spent the day cooking using the sous vide and the grill. Fun toys for them. I was at work all day but contributed a cherry pie that I made the night before. The carnivores enjoyed their time together."

Guess what? Today, we're going to visit my father-in-law, and Wally and Theo came over yesterday. Theo cooked dinner on the grill while Wally helped Ward with a project. The carnivores (Theo cooked chicken and sausages) enjoyed their time together. I had to work all day but made a cherry pie the night before for dessert. 

Boy, we are more predictable than I thought. 😁

While I was perusing, I found a post from 2013 about my father and his garden that I am rerunning today as I remember him on this Father's Day.

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My Father's Garden

For most of my life, I watched my father garden, and I learned a lot about life as I observed him adjust to the ever-changing world surrounding him there. 

He usually had an acre or more of vegetables growing every year, and I watched as he spent hours and hours, days and days, and weeks and weeks planting the garden. He'd plant 20 rows of corn, and the crows would eat 20 rows of corn. He'd plant beans, and the rabbits would feast on the leaves. He'd plant tomatoes, and the groundhogs would take one bite out of each one. And the deer—they liked EVERYTHING in the garden. 

So he put up an electric fence. That worked except for the things that could go under it, like the rabbits. Then he put up a chicken wire fence inside the electric fence to keep those critters out. And that worked except for the creatures that burrowed under the fence like groundhogs. So, he buried fencing a foot underground, which worked for the digging critters. Now, all he had left were the flying creatures. So, he put up scarecrows and shiny streamers, and that sort of worked, except for the wild turkeys. And turkeys are like the deer in that they like EVERYTHING in the garden. Turkeys are really smart, and for several years, the turkeys did more damage to his garden than all the other animals combined.

But yet he kept on. He would plant and plant again. He would hoe a row, and he would weed a row. He would stake the tomatoes and build teepees for the beans. He would fertilize, and he would carry water. And along about the middle of summer, the first of the bounty would need to be picked and picked and picked. And my father was happy. 

As time passed and the kids moved away from home, my father planted his huge gardens. He gave away most of what he grew, but he was happy. My mother finally convinced him that maybe the two of them didn't need such a large garden. It was hard, but he cut back. He adjusted just as he had when the crows ate all of his corn. And then, because of failing health, he had to move to a nursing home, and he was not sure if there would be a place to plant a garden where he was. However, he adjusted, and he was happy.

When I grow up, I want to be like my father and his gardens. I want to do things when they need to be done, just like my father did when he had to water his plants when they needed it, not just when he felt like it. I want to keep working on anything important until I get results, just like my father did when he had to plant his corn again and again. I want to adjust to changing situations just like my father did when he had to downsize his garden. And most of all, I want to find a way to be happy in any situation, just as my father did when he had to leave his garden and couldn't live at home any more.

Note: My father passed away two months after I wrote this.

Until next time...

Thankful Sunday, June 19, 2022

I am thankful for Fathers.

I come from a long line of fathers. 

My own father was a dedicated, rough-and-tumble dad who set good examples of hard work and integrity. His father, whom I knew, was quiet with his own set of problems he never quite figured out how to handle. My two maternal grandfathers died before I was born, but one was reported to be mean, and the other was reported to be generous when times were tough but was always on the move.

Even though these men were not perfect, I am thankful for them and those who came before them because they helped make up the mosaic I am today.

Happy Father's Day!

*If that sounds like too many grandfathers, I had one paternal grandfather, two maternal grandfathers, one the birth certificate father, and one the biological father.

L is for Lineman

 I went to the well, and the well was dry when I was trying to come up with an L post. L should be an easy letter to write about since it is one of the most common letters in the English language. And you can guess what I did after I wrote that last sentence. I checked the statistics on how common L is. It turns out that it is 11th out of the 26 letters, in the top half, but not as common as I thought.

Anyway, after going down several dead-end L paths, I decided to rerun a post from seven years ago that is near and dear to my heart. 

My father was a lineman for the electric company.  He spent his entire career climbing poles and working with high voltage wire, and it was a job that suited him well. He loved being outdoors and doing physical work. In fact, when he was offered managerial positions, he declined because he didn't want to be inside all day. His mother should have known that this might be the career he would choose when she saw him as a boy jumping from tree to tree playing tree tag.

However, parts of the job were difficult, and that's what I remember most. Daddy had to go out anytime day or night in the worst weather because that was when there was usually a power outage. Severe thunderstorms with lots of rain. My father was out. Ice storms. My father was out. Deep snow. My father was out. Sometimes for days. One time he worked 54 hours straight without a break. Luckily since then, there has been a rule that you can't work that long at any one time. But linemen still work very long hours in very difficult situations.

This brings me to one of my pet peeves--people complaining about how long it takes to get their electricity back on after a storm. When it takes more than a few hours, the complaining starts. News reporters get man-on-the-street comments about how bad the electric company is and how things should be fixed by now. No one seems to think about what might be involved to get the electricity working again. It takes a lot of hard physical work, usually done in severe weather conditions.

Enough lecturing. But you know, we all have buttons that can be pushed, and you just learned one of mine.

The picture is of an amazing cross-stitch done by Aunt Martha. The man on the pole looks much like my father did, including the blue jeans and work shirt he is wearing.

Happy Birthday, Daddy!

Today is my father's birthday. He would have been 95 years old. My sisters and I are going to Dairy Queen in his memory because he loved ice cream and had it almost every day. Below is an updated post I wrote about him that I'm rerunning as I remember him today.

My father as a teen.
He started earning adult wages at 10
because of how hard he worked.

I think about my father every day, but today, I've been thinking, in particular, about the things he taught me.  In no special order, here are a few.

1. Life isn't fair, but that shouldn't stop you from succeeding. My father was the oldest boy in his farm family. That meant that farm work was more important for him to do than attending school. As a result, he often missed school and eventually dropped out of high school because of it. It wasn't fair because other kids (and siblings) got to go to school regularly. But he didn't dwell on that. He learned to work hard and be highly successful at anything he attempted. While I don't have quite the same amount of grit as my father did, I do try to move ahead when life throws me a curve without spending too much time in "Woe's me land." (By the way, he got his GED in the Army and aced every single test he took there in his engineering and bridge building courses.)


2. It's okay to not be the life of the party. My father didn't like crowds, so he didn't attend many things where there were more than a few people gathered. But he had many friends because one on one, he was a talkative, interesting person.  I am much like my father in that I am more comfortable one on one with someone instead of in a group. So even in a society that values gregariousness over quietness, I learned that it is okay to be one of the quiet ones.

My father talking to his two younger brothers on
the farm where they grew up. Notice his uniform. :)

3. Comfort and function win out over fashion every time. My father had a uniform so to speak. You would usually find him donned in a gray work shirt and Lee jeans with army socks. The clothes were comfortable and fit his outdoor lifestyle. When I was younger, I didn't quite understand the lack of variety in my father's clothes. But now, I see the wisdom in his choices from saving time while shopping to feeling good in what you're wearing. Perhaps because I'm female, I have varied things a bit more than my father did. I buy my shirts in several different colors instead of sticking with just one. :)

4. Where there's a will, there's a way.  While we had all of our basic needs met while we were growing up, there was not much extra money. But that didn't mean that we missed out on a lot. For example, we had season passes to the swimming pool because my father did work for the pool for free. Also, he was a great barterer, as well as retrieving things others had cast away. His favorite was what he would find floating in the river while he was fishing. We got all of our lawn chairs this way. He showed me that when the easy ways of doing things are not available, it doesn't mean that you can't figure out another way to do it.

5. It's okay to treat yourself.  My father worked very hard. He was a lineman and spent long days, often in bad weather, doing very strenuous and dangerous work. But every single night he a had a bowl of vanilla ice cream. A simple but satisfying treat at the end of a long day. I try to remember when I get busy that it's okay to stop and enjoy a treat. We all need a break and something special from time to time. 

A cross stitch my sister did of father doing his lineman duties.

6. Freckles are fun, but wear your sunscreen. My father had red hair, fair skin, and plenty of freckles. My sisters and I all took after him in that way. Most of his life was spent outdoors without the benefit of sunscreen and he paid for it in his later years with many skin cancers. By example, he showed us that sunscreen and regular checkups with the dermatologist are very important.

7. You can break the cycle. My grandfather was not the best father to my father. Grandpa handled the difficulties in his life with alcohol and did not always provide a kind or stable environment for his kids-especially the older ones. Instead of practicing what he knew, my father was a different kind of father to us. We grew up in an incredibly stable environment and never had to worry about any of our basic needs being met. Along with my mother, he also encouraged education as an important part of our future. He showed me that you can overcome whatever difficulties have happened in the past. Not that it is ever easy, but it can be done. 

I'm going to have ice cream today using
 the same bowl and spoon my father did.
Yes, this is in addition to going to the Dairy Queen.
I think he passed his ice cream gene down. :)

8. If you have, give. The classic example of this is the large amount of vegetables my father gave away every year. Even in the years when we canned and froze hundreds of quarts of things, there were always extras for others. In the empty nest years, my father continued to raise huge gardens that supplied many people with fresh vegetables. But it didn't stop there. A tool, a fishing pole, a knife, if my father thought you might like something, he would give it to you. Or at the very least, make a very good trade so it would be easier to accept. His generous spirit showed me that it's easy to make the day of someone else with very little effort.

9. Connections to nature are vital. My father grew up outdoors on a farm, and later, both his job and leisure time were spent outdoors. It was where he was most comfortable and came alive. Even when he was winding down his life, he kept his connection to the outdoors through the window of his nursing home watching deer from his wheelchair. While I don't spend all of my time outdoors, I have learned that the connections to nature are important for my mental health just like my father.

10. We all have differing abilities. While my father had great spatial awareness, I do not. At all. While my father was an expert marksman whether with a rubberband, gun, or bow and arrow, I am not. While my father never got motion sickness, I always do. While my father could ably whistle any tune, I cannot. But you know what? He never said that I should be able to do all of those things or anything in particular. He just expected me to do the best I could with the talents I had. And that was a freeing thought.

I think most of us could talk for days about the things we learned from our father in one way or another. And I am one of them. But 10 seems like a nice round number, so I'll stop here for today.

Happy Father's Day

Happy Fathers Day!

My father has been gone for four years, but he is in my memories every day. Below is a retelling of one of these memories.

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The Baby

When we were growing up, my father looked like the traditional father from the 1960's. He worked hard as a lineman to provide for us while our mother did more of the childcare and housework. In addition, he was a man's man, who excelled at all of the things that men did in our rural area—hunting, fishing, boating, and marksmanship.

The new baby and her sisters

However if you looked a little deeper, you found that he was more than he appeared to be. Not only was he a man's man, he was a family man and did more than just bring home a paycheck. For example, when I was a baby, he did all of the cooking for my sisters while my mother tried night and day to get me to stop crying. He let us hang out with him after work while he played cards with his buddies and held our hand as we walked home. However, there was one time in particular that he showed a sensitive and wise side that I will never forget.

I was four years old, the baby of the family, and the world revolved around me as far as I was concerned. That is why I was so shocked when my father woke us one morning and said, “Your mother had a baby last night.”

How could that be? I hadn't heard anything about a new baby coming. Of course, my mother later said that we had talked about it and I had even gotten a new bed in anticipation of the coming baby. But none of that had registered with me. I guess that's how things worked in my self-absorbed four-year-old mind. At any rate, I wasn't too sure how I felt about this new situation.

That changed, however, the day they brought my sister home from the hospital. We were all gathered around the door and I was sitting on the steps out of the way. My father was the first to enter carrying the new bundle and he immediately put her in my arms. He didn't wait until my mother was inside. He didn't hand her to my older sisters, he gave her to me. I felt a little scared with this responsibility but also felt very special. While holding my new sister, I decided that having this baby around might not be so bad after all. Years later, I realized what an important gesture this was from my father.

Over the years, this tenderness continued to shine through my father's stern, no-nonsense exterior. Maybe that's why I never stopped calling him Daddy.

L is for Lineman

My father was a lineman for the electric company.  He spent his entire career climbing poles and working with high voltage wire, and it was a job that suited him well. He loved being outdoors and physical work. In fact, when he was offered managerial positions, he declined because he didn't want to be inside all day. His mother should have known that this might be the career he would chose when she saw him as a boy jumping from tree to tree playing tree tag.

However, there were parts of the job that were difficult and that's what I remember most. Daddy had to go out anytime day or night in the worst weather because that was when there was usually a power outage. Severe thunderstorms with lots of rain. My father was out. Ice storms. My father was out. Deep snow. My father was out. Sometimes for days. One time he worked 54 hours straight without a break. Luckily since then, there is a rule that you can't work that long at any one time. But linemen still work very long hours in very difficult situations.

Which brings me to one of my pet peeves--people complaining about how long it takes to get their electricity back on after a storm. When it takes more than a few hours, the complaining starts. News reporters go out and get man-on-the-street comments about how bad the electric company is and how things should be fixed by now. No one seems to think about what might be involved to get the electricity working again. It takes a lot of hard physical work usually done in severe weather conditions.

Enough lecturing. But you know, we all have buttons that can be pushed and you just learned one of mine.

The picture is of an amazing cross-stitch done by Aunt Martha. The man on the pole looks much like my father did including the blue jeans and work shirt he is wearing.