Archive for the ‘dad’ Category

Traveling With Mom And Dad

Tuesday, August 26th, 2008


The deeper I get into this blogging activity, the more surprises I find.

I have a traveling Jones. That’s pretty well-known in the family. Throughout my life I have believed this to be due to all of the reading and dreaming I’ve done. Through my reading I’ve visited places and times and worlds and characters that often transcended the world in which I lived. Who wouldn’t want to travel to as many of those places as possible?

I was talking with Earnestine about traveling with my mom and dad when something struck me – they loved to travel! I had never thought about it. I knew they traveled quite a bit after all of us kids left home but I just assumed it was only to come see us and their grandchildren. When I stopped assuming, however, I immediately remembered my experiences when I traveled with them.

In my lifetime they didn’t own a car until the early fifties (there was one before my birth) when they bought my brother’s 1949 Chevy from him. Until that time they both rode the bus to work and when we went somewhere we walked or rode the bus. Then they got the car and things changed. We began going to my grandmother’s house a lot (I got sick in the car.) When my sister (not the evil one) moved to Ohio we drove there (I got sick in the car.) Then, she moved to New Mexico.

I remember our first trip to Albuquerque – it took five days (I got sick more than once.) There were no interstates. Highways were mostly two lane and went through every small town from West Virginia to New Mexico. My memories of that trip have always related to the destruction of my ukulele (due to the evil sister) and getting sick. This recent revelation, however, gives me so much more to think about.

In that five days we stopped at almost every historical marker and state line monument along the road. About half of the trip was on Route 66 and we stopped at most of the tourist attractions that are now part of the Route 66 folklore. Snake farms, tepee motels, buffalo ranches, caverns, and whatever else appeared before us. I’m surprised we got there in five days. I even remember my first experience with “Mexican” food. We stopped in Tucumcari, New Mexico for dinner and I had Mexican spaghetti. Hot! Hot! Hot! It’s over 50 years later and I still remember that meal.

There was another trip to New Mexico before I left home. It was just mom and dad and me but the trip experience was more of the same. After that mom and dad visited us kids wherever we were. Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. New Mexico several times. Birmingham, Alabama., Springfield, Massachusetts, New Orleans, Louisiana, and more. But there came a time when they began to just stop by to see us as they traveled through.

On one trip they stopped in New Orleans to see my family and went on to New Mexico to my sister’s home. Then, for some reason, they went on to the Grand Canyon and California and back through the upper Midwest before returning home. Why? They didn’t have any family in any of those places. Until now I always thought they were just taking another way home.

But what came to me in the past few days is that my sister and I had no interest in historical markers on the way to New Mexico. We didn’t care much for Route 66 “tourist traps.” We certainly were not impressed by the monuments that told us where each state line was located. (or how high above sea level we were as does the picture above.) It was also a pain trying to get each of those little state decals to slide off the wet cardboard onto the rear window of the car without tearing or wrinkling. My sister and I could have cared less, not to mention how tacky they looked. We just wanted the trip to be over. Have I told you the car was not air-conditioned?

My mom and dad, however, loved all of this. I didn’t realize that at the time, but certainly do now. They were both raised on farms and probably never thought they would see much more than where they lived. When they were able to travel, however, they did! As I think back, I realize their traveling gave them an opportunity to live a life they might never have thought possible. They were having fun! What a concept!

At some point they stopped traveling. I don’t know why and don’t know if one or both of them made that decision. It doesn’t matter, though, because in their life they were able to go places and see things they had only dreamed about. They enjoyed life outside of the five kids and all of the grandchildren. I’m sad this has occurred to me only now. I’m glad I do finally get to know, though.

So, yes, I come by my traveling Jones honestly. That little small town West Virginia boy always dreamed of traveling but never really expected it to happen. But, like mom and dad I have had the opportunities and have taken them. I’ve traveled the world, as have some of my siblings and children. I actually scheduled one business trip so that I literally took a trip around the world, just so I could say I have done it. But I’ll bet nothing I saw on that or any of my trips was more exciting to me than the Grand Canyon or Golden Gate Bridge or Mount Rushmore was to my mom and dad.

I haven’t finished traveling yet. I hope to never reach a stop. I wish I could take mom and dad on a trip, though. I wish they could have gone to Paris with us. I would have loved to buy them one of those little plastic Eiffel Towers! It would not seem at all tacky if I was handing it to one of them.

Posted in Chevrolet, France, New Orleans, Paris, childhood, dad, evil sister, mom, sister, ukulele | 4 Comments »

Did You Ever Open a Door With Your Shoulder?

Tuesday, June 24th, 2008


Well, I have, although I don’t remember how old I was at the time. It was in the house in which I lived with 3 of my 4 siblings. My brother was not around a lot, or, this might have been during the time he was in Korea.

Anyway, two of my sisters were at home that day. One of them was my evil sister, of course. I can’t remember exactly what they did to get me going but they were always picking on me. I don’t even know how I survived to adulthood. They don’t tell these stories the same way, of course, but they don’t remember them like I do. Also, any bad things they say about me are lies!

On the day in question both mom and dad were at work. I don’t remember why mom had to go to work but I’m sure it was because we really, really needed the money. I remember her salary, though. It was $25 a week and, like other topics I’ve mentioned in my blogs, that’s for another story. So, they were at work and it was after breakfast because I remember my two sisters were in the kitchen washing dishes.

I’m sure they were taunting me about something or I would not have gotten angry. When they saw they had made me angry they closed and locked the kitchen door. This was an old house with skeleton key locks on every door. If I could have found a key I wouldn’t have had to break the door down. I couldn’t let them get the best of me, though. After all, I went to the movies every weekend and I knew how to open doors. I had seen my heroes do it many times with their shoulders. (Interesting fact: movies were 15 cents back then. Oh, Earnest, you are getting a little long in the tooth. We usually got a double feature, a serial and a cartoon for that.)

I remember the hallway being about 15 feet long. I went all of the way down the hall and then turned around and ran at the door as hard as I could. Well, I didn’t know my own strength. When my shoulder hit the door it immediately popped open and I fell onto the kitchen floor. The latch from the door frame fell onto the floor with me. I had ripped it out of the wall.

To make a long story short, I and my two sisters spent the rest of the day putting the door back together. Somehow we managed to make it look good enough that neither mom nor dad noticed it. I don’t know if we ever told them about it. My sisters missed a really good chance to get me in trouble by helping me. Maybe they weren’t always so bad.

Posted in Siblings, anger, dad, door, evil sister, key, mom, sister | No Comments »

The Gentlest Man I Ever Knew

Sunday, June 15th, 2008

Today is father’s day and once again I’m missing my dad. I think about him very often but father’s day is special. In some ways it was the only day he was the center of attention when my mom was alive. She just had a way of being the one people saw.

I remember the dad of my childhood. Our life revolved around his work schedule. When he was working the day shift we always ate dinner (supper to some of you) at 4:30 when he got home. When he was working nights I had to be quiet while he slept during the day. That was never easy. When he worked what they called the “swing shift” I was generally confused about when he would be home or working.

I think back and believe he was not a very involved father. However, he took very good care of all of us and managed to keep us fed and clothed even when he was not working. As a union man in the steel industry it was not unusual for him to be on strike. We never played ball together or shared boy scouts or anything like that. We did fish and hunt, though, and those times remain in my memory as some of the greatest times of my life with him.

I never doubted that he loved me. I never really asked, though, because we weren’t a very demonstrative family when I was young. I don’t remember being hugged or kissed by him until I was an adult. I do remember seeing the love in his eyes, though. He had the sweetest, most gentle eyes I’ve ever known. His hands and his smell also stick in my mind. I loved looking at those hands that had worked so hard. I always wanted my hands to look like his, and they do. They are smaller, but are definitely his hands.

He had a garden almost every year. There were many times when a significant portion of our food came from his gardens. He grew it and mom preserved it. We had “fresh” vegetables the year around. I hated the gardens. I loved the food, but hated the gardens. He would give me a hoe and say “weed!” Have you ever hoed (I think that’s a word) in the heat for hours? Well, actually, neither have I. I usually found a way to play around and let the weeds grow. That is still the story of me and gardens. Plant ‘em and leave ‘em alone. I don’t get many vegetables. Maybe a tomato or two at best.

I remember when I was thirteen and had taken a paper route just long enough to buy myself a shotgun. When we hunted in the winter he didn’t seem to have any nerves in his feet. He could stand still in the same place for such a long time in the snow. I would be jumping around trying to keep the blood flowing and he would tell me to stand still and be quiet. One day we had been standing in the snow for about twenty minutes when my moving around scared a rabbit out of a bush right next to me. It had been there all along and finally ran. As it topped the hill next to me I shot at it. Well, dad was really upset. He thought I just wanted to shoot the new gun – which I did. I went over the hill hoping to find that rabbit and there it was. Dad just smiled and walked on. He could say so much with his face.

As he aged he became more emotional. He regularly said he loved me and would hug me when I arrived and when I left on visits. He stayed mobile until the day he broke his hip and then began spiraling down. Finally, I came home to help move him into an assisted living center.

On the last night I was there I was in his room and helped him into bed. He looked at me and said “son, I don’t think I can stay here for six months.” Although my sister, brother and I knew better, we had told him he would be there that long to give him time to heal. I hugged and kissed him goodbye and got into my car to drive home to Texas. I drove all night and when I got home went straight to bed. When I woke there were several messages from my (not really evil) sister. Dad had died in his sleep the night I left. He was 96 years old. I can still feel the kiss he gave me on my cheek the last time I saw him alive.

I know he and mom are together again. I know they loved each other. I also know that part of the reason they were married so long was that he was the gentlest man I ever knew. As much as they seemed to not get along sometimes, his face always softened when he talked about her. She knew his gentleness, too. I’m sure of that.

I love you dad and miss you terribly. Happy father’s day. You were and are the best.

Posted in Father's day, dad, gardening | 2 Comments »