I love you, Daddy
Those of us here in the south think there is absolutely nothing wrong with calling our fathers, "Daddy" all our lives. Grown men, the huge ones, with lots of muscles, do it, and no one tells them they are a wuss. A "Daddy" is a father that you love. So is a "Dad", or, as my father signed all his cards, "Pop".
Daddy was born in 1930. My father had a terrible childhood in the depression. All farmers had a terrible time in the depression. He was determined that I would not suffer as he had, and he worked very hard to make sure I didn't.
At age 8, Daddy swept out the corner drugstore every afternoon after school, returning home in time for supper. For this devotion to duty, he earned $.25/week. He gave $.10 to his mother, and then paid for he and his sister to go to the movies, ($.05/each), and split a coke, ($.05).
As he grew up, Daddy delivered newspapers, in addition to his job at the drugstore. By this time, the farm had failed, (1940), and the family lived in town, so he mowed lawns, raked leaves, and generally did anything he could to earn money. Daddy's father died in 1942, of a heart attack, in his chair in the living room. Daddy was 12. From that moment on, he took on earning the money for the family's house payment.
It was just as hard for a kid to earn money back then, as it is now-- and the $75 house payment was a HUGE bugaboo. In high school, Daddy delivered newspapers, took care of many lawns, worked in a shoe store downtown, was president of the Science Club, the Yearbook club, a member of the History Club, and the Latin Club, maintained a 3.5 grade average, and dated my mother. He built his first car from a Buick chassis and a Chevrolet body. Since the shocks didn't want to translate between the models, he always said that riding in it was like jumping on an anvil!
My parents married at 18, and 7 years later, I came along. Daddy served in the Reserves, then left for the National Guard and a nice promotion. He worked at Gipe Automotive, selling car parts to auto parts stores. Every day, he drove from small town to small town, restocking the auto parts stores with spark plugs and brake linings. He worked long, hard hours, and by the time the weekend came along, he was exhausted. But, he kept on going.
I don't think he really knew what to do with a girl. Disappointed at first that I wasn't a boy, I think Daddy didn't really know how to deal with a little girl that loved teddy bears and made mud pies. I was perfectly content swinging on my swing set-- lost in my own little girl world that had so little to do with the adult world he inhabited.
Yet, I knew Daddy loved me. His strong hands tied the delicate bow of my pinafore in the back, and he always polished my patent leather shoes with a cold biscuit on Sunday mornings before church. He always hugged me, and I was very happy to spend time with him. He always brought a sparkle into the room with him, when he came home!
As I grew up, I would get up with him at 5 am, to go fishing. In the dark. Before sunup. (These days, if I make it up by 10 am, I've really done something-- but then, I have restless leg syndrome, like he had.) I never hunted with him, but we went target practicing, and he was careful to teach me gun safety. He taught me how to tie a man's tie. He taught me to be an individual, (maybe that's not such a good thing, as I've always been odd), and together, we made jewelry and built things.
Daddy worked-- all the time. He had his job, and then he had his other responsibilities, and always, day and night, he worked hard and played hard. When I was in high school, Daddy started a construction company. By this time, he owned several auto parts stores himself. He was 1/2 owner in 4 auto parts stores, and he kept up with all that, and the construction company, and his hobbies-- hunting, fishing, building furniture, etc.
I am very glad that Daddy got to have some fun. He hunted elk in Wyoming, and returned to act as a guide for the Goose Wing Ranch in the Gros Ventre mountain range, leading other hunters to the high grounds where the elk lived. He fished in Canada, flying in on an airplane, and camping for a week. He had a few adventures, and I'm so glad he did!
The Best part about Daddy was that he was fun and funny! I still laugh at the some of the funny sayings he came up with-- and still think of all the fun times we had. Laughter was a big part of his life-- and I must say he enjoyed life to the fullest.
Eventually, I graduated from college, married, and then divorced. He never said one word against me being a geologist, but was, instead, proud that I followed my heart-- rather than follow my mother's insistence that I do something more feminine. Mama was always ashamed that I was a geologist, behaving as if it were something immoral, but Daddy was proud.
When I was 27 years old, Daddy was diagnosed with cancer. The cancer had started on his adrenal gland, spread to his lymph system, lodged in a spot between his heart and his lung, and spread up to his lymph gland in his neck. The doctors gave him a 3% chance of living 5 years, but Daddy fought hard up to the last. He died in 1985, at age 54. I was 29 years old. His adrenal gland quit working and that was that.
I have never ceased to grieve for him, and miss him Every Day. I send messages to him daily, still, via God-- "God, please tell Daddy that I love him, and about the funny thing that Matthew said today!"
Daddy was never really glad that I was a girl until he got sick-- then he realized that a girl is a pretty good thing to have. I stuck by him like glue, and took the best care of him that I could. Daddy asked me if I would help him to die, if it got too bad. Of course, I said. I am so grateful that I didn't have to do that. Night after night, I asked God to take me, instead. Sigh!
I don't know if men really understand just how important a father is, in a daughter's life, as well as a son's. It's probably more complicated with boys-- all that testosterone-- but with girls, fathers have so much influence, over their daughter's entire life. I can't imagine what my life would have been like without my father-- who believed in me, when my mother surely didn't, and who loved me, no matter what. Without the love of my father, I don't know if I could have ever had the love of my husband.
Dear Daddy, on this Father's Day, you have been gone 30 years, but I want to thank you for your love! I love you very much! You have always been a wonderful father!
Thanks for coming by!
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Daddy grew a mustache in the 70's that he waxed into a merry upward turn. You could always tell when he had had a bad day-- his face would get hot, and his mustache wilted. When he came home looking like Genghis Khan, don't bug him!
His name was Bud Taylor. His christened name was Ronda-- a family name. Needless to say, he hated it! so, he used Bud all his life. I well remember when he was invited to join the National Federation of Female Executives-- oh my! The roars of disgust were as if he had been personally insulted...
This is a wonderful tribute to your dad, Dowser !
I well remember when he was invited to join the National Federation of Female Executives-- oh my! LOL What a funny story dowser!! I don' think there I anything wrong with a child calling their Father" Daddy" into their adulthood at all. What a wonderful an he must have been.
Lovely tribute !!
You're probably right jennilee, he probably thought it was the norm.
A beautiful tribute to your Daddy. The glimpses of Marsha we know here on NT are directly attributable to the man you honor today.
Beautiful Dowser.
Dowser
He sounds like a great guy and a role model for all to emulate
And it sounds to me like he is still very much wit you through all that he imparted to you
My father passed in 1980 and I think about him more on Father's Day since then, then I ever did when he was alive and that pains me greatly. He had his faults, but he gave his all for his family and instilled an attitude and focus in each of us to succeed.
We never told him we loved him enough, but I think he knew it.
Thanks for sharing tis great story
Thanks, Pat. I would still gladly give all I possess, if only I could be with him again, even if for just 10 minutes... Just to laugh with him again! He was a great father!
Oh my gosh! He was so upset!
The other funny thing about it-- I was a geologist and no matter which gas company credit card I applied for, as Marsha L. Taylor, they always came back Marshall Taylor. Gender roles were set in stone back then!
I think he was determined to give me the things he never had-- most of all, security! I love him still, with all my heart! He would love my dear husband!
Well, I am what I am, good and bad... And yes, a lot of me IS Daddy. He had so many talents and abilities-- he tailored my suits to fit me, when I was out and about in the world. He was a gourmet cook! He made some kind of awful brandy once-- and nearly blew up the garage... I found the giant crock he put it in, out in my mother's garage.
I miss him, every day. Even though he is with me in my heart, and we have wonderful visits in my dreams, I just wish I could see him again...
Thank you, my dear friend!
I feel, deep in my heart, that they know we love them-- even as they are in a better place. Love never dies-- and is all that really matters. I know that your father knows how much you love and appreciate him.
They are with us, still-- but it sure would be nice to see them, wouldn't it? I guess I ask God to tell him things just because I miss him so much, it keeps him close to me... He's been gone for 30 years, but I feel like I just talked to him last week...
The last time I dreamed about Daddy-- I was driving down a dark road, and the car left the air, landing nose first in a gully. Suddenly, Daddy was there. He said, "Well, driving too fast! You've got to slow down when it rains."
I asked him if I were dead. He said, "No, you're not dead, yet. It's not going to be pleasant when you wake up, but for pete's sake, SLOW DOWN." I think of that dream every time I'm driving in the rain, these days... He is still helping me!
Dowser
I was never closer to my Dad, than when my youngest son was quite ill and I was scared and I wondered what my Dad would do. I felt comforted and optimistic, even as I sat alone holding my son's hand
He was there
I understand that, completely. I always gather strength from thinking about Daddy, and know that he is there, being loving and supportive.
It's so great that you have such loving memories of your father Dowser!
It is fabulous! He was so much fun!
I'm sure he was!!