Call Me Patty

My Dad

Since I have started writing my story I have learned, my grandparents actually had thirteen children, their first son Frank had died when he was in his early twenties so I never knew him. My grandfather smoked cherry tobacco also my brother said our parents met at a dance. Grandma didn't like him and chased him with a broom and told him to go away, probably the same broom she hit the mean rooster with. She was a feisty lady, I know who I take after. I'm glad dad didn't scare easily.

Let me tell you about my Dad, he was the most kind, thoughtful father anyone could have, he didn't get mad very often, but when he did, you didn't want to be on his bad side. That man was a hard worker, as a farmer, he was up at 4 a.m every morning to milk the cows and work the fields in the warm weather. That's all I know because I didn't like going to the barn. When I was about six, I don't remember where we were going, what I do remember was that we were all getting cleaned up and putting on nice clothes, I was wearing a dress and excited to go, Dad was still at the barn milking the cows, they needed to be milked in the morning and evening, I guess I was getting impatient to go, so I go out to the barn to get him, the cows were lined up in a stanchion eating grain and hey. I walked behind the cows where dad was and as I walked behind them one cow kicked up her leg and kicked manure all over me, I stood there in my once clean dress and face and I started to cry, dad was laughing I told him it wasn't funny, he tried not to laugh but he wasn't successful. I had manure in my hair and on my face, I don't think it was anywhere near my mouth, seems I would remember that. After that no more going to the barn when the cows were there, they would be left out during the day to graze in the field. It was a simple life, even though we didn't have a lot of money, I don't remember ever being cold or hungry we always had the necessities. Because we were on a farm we always had fresh produce, in the summer, mom would can all kinds of fruits and vegetables, my favorite was peaches. Tomatoes were always a staple in our house they could be used in soups and sauces, watching mom can every year that's how I learned. When I had my own family Dad basically forced me into canning, he would drop off bushels of different produce and he said "these are to can."What can I say but" thanks dad." So satisfying to provide that for the family. It was a lot of work but so worth it. Mom would freeze corn and the worst part of that was the flies loved it too. We didn't have air conditioning so the windows were open all summer, every time the screen door would open lots of flies would come in also. We had fly ribbons all over the house, didn't take long to fill up those ribbons. When you live on a farm there's no shortage of flies. Because of that I was never going to freeze corn,besides being very messy.

Dad wasn't a very big man but he could put away the food, sometimes I would sit in amazement and watch him consume plates of food, yes plates! Never gained a pound. I did not inherit that metabolism.
Dad didn't have an easy life, but that was what he was used to, never complained, just did what had to be done. Mom was having mental issues at a time when people didn't talk about such things. At one point she was admitted to an institution for the mentally ill. Dad made sure we were well taken care of. We would stay with family, one of those times we stayed with our Aunt Shirley and Uncle Harry, I don't have a lot of memories of that time, I do remember Aunt Shirley and how she was like my mother at a time when we really needed a mother. She had two children at the time, about the same age as we were, Allen and Kathy. At one point you could say they had six children at one time, big responsibility but they were willing to do it. As we got a little bit older Dad's brother Gordon and his wife Dot would keep us when mom had to go back to the hospital. They had no children, but Aunt Dot thought she knew what was best for us, building up our blood by putting molasses in our milk, I would not recommend unless you really like molasses. You would think because we were raised on a farm that milk would be one of our favorite drinks, I can only speak for me, milk is not my drink of choice. As I said before the cows would graze in the fields eating fresh grass all day until it was time to go back to the barn for milking. Sometimes the milk would taste like what they had eaten. Aunt Dot insisted we have a glass of milk with our meals, I would try to drink it, the last time I forced myself to drink it, it tasted like grass. Nope, no more milk. The only time I have milk is in cereal, only because the sugar makes it better or chocolate milk is good. We stayed with Aunt Dot a lot. One of the memories I have of staying there, was a time when we rode in the back of their pickup truck in the dark, I don't remember where we went or who it was that they went to see, before we left she made a bed for us with a mattress and blankets. I loved it, we were going on an adventure, for a kid riding in the back, in the dark that was the ultimate adventure. It was the four of us, Lois, myself, Mary Jo, and Buster. Could never do that today, I don't know how we survived our childhood but we managed to grow up to be healthy adults for the most part.
I look back at when Lois and I were teenagers, I was about fourteen and she was fifteen we decided we were going to be cool and smoke cigarettes, that's what we thought we were, we didn't have money so we would sneak cigarettes from mom, dad always had his in his pocket, moms was laying around, much easier to get at. Lois and I were in our room smoking when we heard dad coming so we quickly put them in the drawer of our vanity, they were lit and the smoke was coming out of the drawer when dad opened it there they were, he took them away and later came back and told us if we were going to smoke to do it in front of him and not behind his back. That was the beginning of our smoking habit. At the time we thought that was cool. But clearly not very bright if we thought we would not get caught by putting them in a drawer.
The thing I remember about dad is how loyal and dependable he is, whenever mom was going through one of her breakdowns, he was right by her side when other men would have left, he was there to stay.
When I was married I think he still worried about me, because sometimes he would stop by to make sure we were still alive, as he put it. At the beginning of my story I said I had four girls, that is true, I failed to mention that at five and a half months into my fourth pregnancy I had a miscarriage, and it was a boy. When he was born, I swear I heard him gasp for air, if he did it was the only time. They asked me if I wanted to see him, right away I said no, I could not bring myself to look at him, I didn't want to remember him like that. I even had a name picked out for him, Eric Charles, because he was fully developed we had to bury him, I had no clue how to go about that, my hero, dad said he would take care of it for us. That was such a relief to not have to deal with that. He arranged to have him buried with my grandmother, dad's mother. Even though I had a name for him, it didn't make it on his burial stone it just said baby boy and his last name. I look back at that time I don't think I could have gotten through it without dad taking charge.
Bob and I and the girls were going away for a long weekend and needed to have someone feed our gerbil while we were gone, so Marsha agreed to do it, we met her at a grocery parking lot to hand off our gerbil and Marsha said she was on her way over to pick up dad to take him to the doctor because he had a migraine headache, never thought anything of it because dad had headaches. We went onto our destination for the next four days. We did not have cell phones in the early eighties so when we arrived home, our phone was ringing, it was my brother Bill calling because dad was in intensive care with a brain aneurysm. Totally unexpected and shocking, Bill was coming to pick me up, I didn't drive at the time and it was late, Bob stayed home with the kids and we met mom at the hospital.
I will never forget the first time I saw him lying in the bed hooked up to so many tubes and wires. They had him on a heart monitor and every time someone would speak it would get faster. All I could do was cry and tell him "I love you, dad" when he heard my voice his heart beat faster. That was the last thing I said to him before he died, I never got to say goodbye, it was devastating for the whole family, he was our rock, the one who would swoop in and know what to do. Mom was a widow at fifty years old with two young girls at home to raise by herself. I should say teenage girls. Dad was a good man with a good reputation, to this day people still say what a great person he was. I always knew that, but it's nice when others recognize it too. Now you know just a little about my dad, I know if you knew him you would love him as much as I do. His children are his legacy, I hope we make him proud.