Tammi's World

My Gentle Man

I've been thinkin' about Daddy a bit lately. Oh, he's always just a thought away, but this is more than is normal for me. I don't know if it's the rural area I'm in, the fact that Father's Day is coming or what but lots of memories have been running through my mind and I kind of need to get them out.

I introduced you to Daddy in this post last year. I should probably wait until Father's day to put this up, but there's a reason I'm thinking about it now....so there must be a reason to write it.

My father was what I would call a gentle man and a gentleman. Mama was the disciplinarian in our household. Daddy didn't really get mad - well except for that once when my puppy messed on the floor. No, he didn't have much of a temper at all - but he took his responsibilities very seriously.

I was a tad bit overly dramatic growing up - I know, hard to believe, huh! ;-) Anyway - my favorite trick was to run away. We lived on US 20 but out in the country. One afternoon Daddy saw this tall lanky girl walkin down the side of the road, dragging her suitcase. He just pulled the truck over and stood by the tailgate. I simply turned around, still dragging my suitcase and walked back to the truck. He put the suitcase in the bed and got in the truck. I also climbed in. We drove the 10 mins. back home and he parked the truck. Not One Word Was Spoken By Either Of Us.

I knew the drill - I went immediately to the basement and awaiting my "come-uppance". You can only imagine my surprise when it was Daddy that came downstairs, he NEVER spanked us. At least not in my memory.

He standing there with tears in his eyes. "Baby girl, you know I gotta do this. But (and he really said this) know it's gonna hurt me more than it's gonna hurt you."

Me: Oh Daddy (now crying) I don't want to hurt YOU! You don't HAVE to do this. Honest.

Daddy:

I got a lot of spankings as a child - this one is the most memorable. It was also the last time I tried to run away. Not because it physically hurt so much - it was all the other stuff.

Daddy always had a little smirk on his face. Well, maybe not a smirk - more of a small grin. He saw humor in most everything. He wasn't loud or pushy. He didn't talk much at all - but when he did, you really wanted to listen. It was always worth it.

He never talked about his childhood. Never. I never heard stories about his brothers and sisters, going to school, working the farm. I think it wasn't a very good time - growing up. But he was a good son, a good brother. He want out to his parents farm and always helped out. Lambing, potato time, apple pickin'. Just because. Looking back and I can see where it wasn't comfortable for him, and now that I know more about that whole thing - I'm so proud of the man that he was, bigger than the hurt, gentler than the memories.

Everyone called him Babe. I don't know how he got that nickname, but the only people that called him by his real name were his family and strangers.....hmmmm guess that says something.

I remember working out in the yard with him. We had 3 acres with 150 trees and, man were there sticks to pick up, trimming to do. Yuck. BUT....he was very picky about his yard. So we all worked at it together. And at the end of the day - we'd all sit out on the swing and admire all our hard work. He'd tell us how grateful he was for our help......then chide me because I slacked a bit. It was a running joke with us. You see, I was the lazy one. :-)

I think about him teaching me to cook - made even funnier by the fact that he burnt everything he touched. It's one reason I like extra crisp bacon, crunchy fried potatoes and double toasted bread.

I think about those 30 minutes after he just got home from work. It was from 3:00-3:30 every afternoon. I'd have cookies on a plate and a mug of coffee and a glass of milk sitting at the table. We'd spend that time talking. OK - I'd talk but he would smile, nod ask questions and laugh. I flat out lived to make my Daddy laugh. That was our time. And we used it well.

Even now - 30 odd years later - I still see glimpses of his smile, or "THAT" look. Even now I miss him every day. My cousin and I often talk about "if only". I know that is counterproductive, but it's also human nature. If Only Daddy were here.......

Posted by Tammi at June 1, 2005 05:26 AM