Many celebrated Father's Day last weekend with their daddies, while many of us are left only with tender memories.
I grew up with love and security from two special daddies in my life.
They were both so different, but yet became friends, brought together by the love of one little blond hair, blue-eyed girl me.
My mom grew up a little country girl and met my dad while visiting relatives in the city. After a whirlwind romance and marriage, he went away to serve in the Navy. They both realized after he returned home that they each had different lives planned.
Mama, a little country girl from Dixie, just never could adjust to the big city life where my dad thrived as a musician. Mama took me and left the big city in California and took the train back home to Missouri and to the country.
She eventually married my Daddy George, a country boy who had just returned from the Army. My new daddy never thought of me as anything but his daughter, but my other daddy was always welcome in our country home and did visit often, and I him, all through the years until his death.
When David and I made wedding plans, I didn't know which one of my daddies should walk me down the aisle. Both would be there with families on both sides, and I loved them both!
Finally we decided that David, me and the minister would walk down the aisle together. As a girl of only 15 years old, I never thought of, and I wish someone would have advised me, that I could choose them both! But I guess it was probably unheard of back then. If I had it to do over, I would choose them both to walk beside me.
My first daddy was always laughing, and having everyone else laughing, telling jokes and pulling pranks. He was always the "life of the party" and I have always thought it was a compliment when family members would say, "You are just like your dad!" Our youngest son, Eric, is much like him.
My daddy that raised me was a more serious, hard-working man that I could always count on to try to give me anything I ever asked for. I can't ever remember him being cross with me.
They were so different but yet both great men in my eyes. Our family has always been proud of both of them for their service to our country in the military. My daddies are both gone now but never forgotten, and I will always miss them both.
Our three sons always thank their daddy for all he taught them about life and being an honorable person. When our sons were young, they were always with their daddy, hunting, fishing and doing all the things boys like to do.
They were taught safety and hunting skills from the time they were little boys, and were all hunting with him and bringing home their game by the time they were old enough to start school. They still are successful hunters.
By the time they were 6 and 7, our two oldest sons, Daniel and Randy, were already playing music and singing. Daniel started on the mandolin and Randy the guitar. Eric, our youngest, played the bass when he got old enough.
Their daddy taught them all they would need to know to grow up to be respectable men. We learned God's word together and all three boys still attend worship services with their families.
They learned work ethics and values while working with their daddy on the farm and we were always proud then, and still are, when people tell us how nice our boys are.
Daniel and family now live in Nashville, where he is a producer, songwriter and performer, and he is a grandpa now.
Randy is our Callaway County Eastern District Commissioner, and also his band plays at their dance hall at 54 Country in Fulton. He too is now a grandpa.
Eric is a longtime delivery truck driver, deacon in our church, and still plays bass occasionally. He is also a grandpa now.
Father's Day we took a ride, with the kids coming in the afternoon. As we drove down Highway 94, heading through Bluffton, where David was born, we were talking about our dads and as we were looking at all the fields along the way.
"My dad just wouldn't believe this," David said, noticing the fields of corn. It was planted so thick you couldn't hardly walk between the stalks. We talked about when he and I were both young and how it was done.
You left enough room so you could go down between the rows with a wagon being pulled by horses or mules as you picked. I remember daddy starting the team up the row, then he and mom would pick the corn and throw it in the wagon. I rode in the wagon holding my baby brother, Gary. Later, daddy and mom got a tractor to pull the wagon.
David talked about his dad getting his mules, Dixie and Maud, started up the row. He was impressed as a little boy riding in the wagon, by how the horses knew just what to do. His dad would shuck the corn in a spot, then just click his mouth, and the horses would move forward staying in the row until his dad said, "Whoa!"
David remarked about how his grandpa and dad would think they had a good productive crop when they got 40 bushels an acre. I believe they get around six times that amount now.
Back then, I don't remember any of my family planting sweet corn. We ate what was planted in the fields. When we had big family gettogethers, as we did a lot, we would have a big kettle of corn on the cob. We always had fresh-made, homemade butter to also go on it.
I still smile when I think about the time a lady came to buy eggs from mom. We were getting ready to cook corn. She was astonished and said, "You all eat hog corn?!" It's been many years since I've had any "hog corn," but I still get hungry for it and I love the smell of the corn growing in the fields.
Several years ago, a friend invited us to pick some sweet corn he had growing along the side of his field corn. We had our youngest granddaughter, Ashley, with us. As we were picking some, I was lost in memories as I breathed the delicious smell of the cornfield, and listened to the gentle rustling of the corn stalks in the breeze.
Suddenly I was aware of Ashley calling me. "Grandma," she called, "come in farther, I have found some real big corn!" I smiled and said, "Oh, no, sweetie, that's hog corn."
There sure has been a lot of changes in our lifetime. David and both I look back on all our childhood with fond memories. The older we get, the more we realize and are thankful for all the love and sacrifices from our daddies.
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June 26, 2021 at 09:15AM
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Remembering daddies' special love - Fulton Sun
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