My Childhood:

When I try to remember as far as I can… the first person I see is always my Dad. I see his big silly grin, singing songs, bouncing me on his knee and giving me a shoulder ride. He’d let me hang on his back pockets while he walked around pretending I was his shadow. In a flash, I can see his face turn purple and something go flying across the yard because somebody pushed his hot button. What I loved was how well he expressed his true emotions. If he thought I was a cry baby he told me so. If he thought I was the smartest kid he ever knew, he told everybody. He loved to talk history and pick peoples brains, making them wonder why they believed whatever they did. He’d push them until they admitted they only believed what they did because they’d been told to. I watched him change the course of many lives and turn people from vague wishy washy liberals to die hard conservatives. Not because he was more convincing than the propaganda they’d been fed their whole lives but because he taught them to really think and question the unquestionable. It’s funny to look back on because what was a routine line of questioning that I was bored sick with would still strike a new person with the same force as the last. It seemed so elementary to me, so redundant and boring but Dad always took the opportunities given. I could see his sales pitch face come on, he would glow with a canny light and lean into the conversation. He would hold a fist on the worn cherry dining table in our kitchen and draw my helpless friends into a world of truth that they’d never visited. I could always see it when the final blow was coming. His fist would bounce off of the table with his thumb thrust out and the mesmerized captive would nod with a dawning light in their eyes. I liked to pop in for the finale but really over the years, the process was lost on me… or so I thought. As I grew up, I found myself baiting people almost constantly to see if they could trounce me in a verbal debate. I soon discovered that Dad had been very smart to spend his arguments on young teenagers. Once you got past that age group, people were invariably set in their ways. What I always did envy was his ability to stay calm in a debate. I still to this day, find myself with a red face and sweat dripping down my ribs even if I have the upper hand.
Life Lessons
It was a proud day. I’d gotten up with Dad, headed down to the biggest hay barn in the world and we were loading hay in our GMC. Dad got ready to climb up on the hay and throw down bales to me for me to drag to wherever they needed to be placed. He usually tossed the bales with precision and they naturally fell right where he wanted them. As I look back now, I know he tossed this bale straight to me because he knew I could pick it up and it would make me feel tough but I hadn’t anticipated it and the bale landed at my feet, knocking my knees and landing on my lap in unison with my butt hitting the truckbed. Of course, I didn’t feel tough so I decided to cry and have Dad come save me. I started to wind up the siren and Dad just burst out laughing. He couldn’t stop. He bent over and caught his breath and said “Boogle, that bale is smaller than you are if it’s even possible. It’s a perfect sized Betsy bale. You can do anything you want to with it.” I pretended to struggle under the weight and he leaned back and smiled. He wasn’t buying it. I decided to save face, so with heroic strength I launched the bale off of me, stumbled to my feet and heaved the little puff ball up on to the higher bales. He heaped on the praise and talked about how strong I was for such a little girl and I felt my chest expand and decided I’d be the best hay hand he’d ever have someday. I learned I didn’t need help as much as I asked for it and sometimes people just weren’t going to fall for my tricks.
Special Moments
It was a mid December day, uncommonly warm and very pretty. I sat in the little white S10 truck on my way to Beebee, Arkansas with Dad. We sang with strength our usual repertoire of Hank Williams, Baptist Hymns, Irish Ballads and random songs he just knew. We stopped at a little station and picked up our usual drinks and a king size Mounds Bar to share. It was going to be a perfect day. We arrived at a house and a man came out front with a smile. “I see you brought your helper.” It was always the same, everyone called me Dad’s helper and I always tried to live up to the title. I fetched tools when he was stuck in a crawl space either fixing a water softener or installing it. I tried to mind my manners and not ask for food even though everything I saw in other peoples houses looked incredibly appetizing. On this occasion, I was stopped at the front porch and never lifted a finger to help Dad. I have no recollection of the inside of the gentlemans house or his interesting array of food. There were 5 little kittens in a rainbow of colors. I couldn’t believe that every kitten was a different color, and most of all, I couldn’t believe the white one. The white one had the softest white fur with a dusting of gold across her head down her back and darkening at her tail to almost orange. She had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen on a cat and a captivating personality. I tried to be fair to all of the other kittens but I was smitten. When it was time to leave the kind man asked if I’d like to take one. I gave Dad a hopeless pleading look and to my complete and utter shock, he said yes. Dad hated cats. I was stricken dumb but not motionless. I scooped up the white kitten and wrapped my arms around Dad in the biggest hug I could muster. On the drive home, I decided to name her Lacey. She was huddled under the seat the whole way, but I chattered about her nonstop. Dad asked how I knew it was a girl and I told him that she had to be because she was so beautiful. He told me she could be my Christmas present. I was so happy I could barely stand it. When we got home Ginny and Louis had been trying to create a Christmas tree. Louis had cut down a Pine tree and tied branches with yarn to make it look full in all of the bare spots. We brought in the kitten and she was obsessed with the tree, the ornaments and the lights. She couldn’t leave it alone. It was a special day in my life I’ll never forget. It was a time someone gave me a Christmas present that was a true sacrifice. He gave it to me because he knew I would love it despite the fact that he could not stand cats.