A Dedication To My Dad - By Ladymermaid

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Dad - October 11, 1929 - October 15, 2005

He was an eternal optimist. He loved his life and he loved to play. A kid at heart he taught himself, as well as myself, and my siblings to believe in miracles and in magic.

He was the person who would be the first one to be searching out that magical new toy on store shelves, the one begging to be allowed to eat that special box of treats that was meant for an after supper treat, and the one excitedly examining Christmas presents under the Christmas tree at Christmas time.

He was the first one pleading to be allowed to go outside and play after supper was finished, and if he got his way, then that usually meant a camping or fishing trip for us kids.

If he had a dollar in his pocket then he was a happy man. That dollar was money for a coffee at the local restaurant and at least an hours entertainment for him. If he had a lottery ticket than he was the richest man in the world. He could dream about all the wonderful things he would do when his ticket won.

He taught us to be happy, to be optimistic, to be kind, and to be giving. He taught us how to enjoy our lives and for that I will always be grateful.

Pennies, Nickles and Dimes 

My dad once told me that his father had an egg cup and that this was where his dad kept his spare change, he said that the egg cup never once managed to be full.

In his own way my dad carried on this tradition but he kept an old mayonaise jar to store his coins in instead of an egg cup like his dad. Whenever I managed to catch a glimpse of that jar it seemed to be about three quarters full of pennies, nickles and dimes. Each of those coins was the result of spare change that dad received when he cashed in his horde of bottles and cans.

Our family made regular trips out to hunt for bottles, and if we spied them on the way to or from school, we picked them up to tote home. My dad walked to and from the mill each day, and he never left a bottle or can in his path, these were brought home and added to the stash.

We lived fifty miles from town and when we made our monthly shopping trip into the city, us kids picked bottles on the road till dad told us that we had enough. To us it was our way of life, a game that we played, searching for as many bottles and cans as we could find. It was a game that held huge rewards. These bottles that we so deligently gathered were then transferred into the precious coins that went into the spare change jar.

Dancing when he's supposed to be cooking

 

The money from those bottles became the difference between us kids just existing and us kids really truly living.

These precious coins were our ice cream cones, popsicles, strawberry gum, comic books, and movies. Pennies counted out one by one into waiting hands at an ice cream vendor, movie theatre or fair. I remember the thrill of being the kid that one day got a dime instead of the usual ten pennies that was the then equivalent of an ice cream coin.

I will never know if my dad kept this jar because he had once long ago received the treat of a coin from his dad's egg cup, or if we received these treats, because he never did.

I know that my dad taught us kids early in life the value of recycling, and of the necessity of having and really truly enjoying the simple little luxuries in life. Through always insuring that we had a little spare change to have those all important little luxuries of life, he taught us to be giving, and he taught us to love.

Dad

My Dad 

His mom died giving birth to him
and left with a father who couldn't care
that hated him
for what he had presumably stolen from him
He grew

A skinny little boy who only wanted to play
and be a kid.
Beaten black and blue
lying in bed afraid
praying for the day
When it would stop
but it never did.

Dad at two years old

 

One day the pain was more than he could face
and he ran away.
Little more than half a child
he hid in a neighbors barn
till he could get further away
and he did.

He worked the logging trails
leading horses in and out
Ran errands for the boss.
Anything to survive
till the day he hoped would come
that he would have time to play.

Dad

 

But he married instead
a woman already pregnant with another man's son
and he became a man
before he had even grown into one.

So he sits and sings songs
picks an old guitar that he has bought.
Plays songs for his children
as they came
one by one.

Four of six

 

With no education
he works with his hands
his back and his wits.
Always a step away from the bank
trying to take away what he has made.

A dollar in his pocket and he feels like a king.
A woman at home who wears his ring.
Six kids to share his name.

Not too many people know why
he would never be angry or hurt enough
to raise his hand
to any one of his kids.

Instead he would just look hurt
and then silently walk away.

Getting Firewood

 

Many think that if you are poor
that you just haven't tried.
Poor morals, bad judgments
card houses built on reasons why.

My dad....
what could he have been
if circumstances had been
just a little bit
different for him?

Playing his guitar at the campfire

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Snowed In

Growing Up 

I spent the better part of my childhood in a little tiny community known as Bear Lake. To a kid like myself it seemed that the only creatures that existed out that far north were the inhabitants of that tiny lumber mill community and a large number of frogs, snakes, moose and bears. The community was definitely appropriately named! It was also an outdoors man's paradise.

Bear Lake was situated way out in the middle of the bush, surrounded by woods, lakes and creeks in all directions. It was such an isolated area that we drove about twenty five miles out once a week just to get our mail. The good news was that we probably spent a great deal more of our childhood swimming, fishing and camping then other children would get to enjoy in a lifetime.

The local residents

Going Fishing...... 

My dad loved to fish! He also had six kids, and my mom was not about to let him go fishing unless he took his fair share of the kids with him, and that meant that we went fishing when dad did. Of course, Fridays after work finished at the mill for the week, dad would want to pack up the tent and go on a real fishing trip. So at least every second weekend in the summers, off camping went dad, his tent, his guitar and five little kid bodies.

For all the camping that we did as kids I don't ever remember being cold at night. Dad knew two rules for keeping us warm, he applied them to our camping trips, and they worked. The first was to keep us off the ground and away from the cold, and moistness that it gives off, and the second rule was to make use of our own body heat.

Our old tent was huge. Built to hold twelve people, it wasn't the warmest shelter that could be provided, but it served to keep the wind and rain at bay. On the floor of the tent he would spread a tarp, then old blankets, then air mattresses that would become our beds, then more blankets, till finally our bedding went on. There was definitely more bedding under us then over us. The air mattresses were pressed close together and swaddled in blankets to form two huge beds. The boys would sleep in one bed and us girls would sleep in another. The bed was always icy cold when we would crawl in at night, but our body heat would have it toasty warm in not too long a time afterward, and it would stay that way till morning.

Fishing

Camping  

Mornings in the forest are very damp with the moisture that the plant life gives off in the crisp morning air, although we could visibly see our breath, our bed would still feel snuggly warm. It would usually be the smell of bacon and eggs cooking on the campfire, and dad's insistence that he would throw us in the lake if we didn't get up, that would force us up and out into the chill morning air.

After a night of camping the lower blankets in the tent would be damp from the coolness of the ground, and our morning job would be to tilt our air mattresses onto their sides, and to hang our lower blankets on an outdoor line to air. In the afternoon we would once again make our beds for the evening. Any moisture picked up in the previous evening was taken out of the bedding by this morning ritual. Dad's simple rural wisdom worked, we were never once cold, despite the many camping trips that we made while we lived in that rural community.

Dad and the boys fishing

Bear Lake Provincial Park 

Bear Lake is now a Provincial Government Park, so a little busier a community than when we lived there, but it is still known for its abundance of wildlife, fishing, and camping.

Our family moved on years ago, but my father returned to that wilderness community, and he now lies in rest among the very pines that he loved so much to camp, hunt and fish in.

A cup of coffee at a local restaurant, and a lottery ticket, and he was the world's richest man.... 

Having a really good day

 



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by Ladymermaid

I am an author, blogger, and Internet marketer. Just Google Ladymermaid and you will find me.

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