There were two phrases often used by us kids as we grew up that never failed to generate excitement. They were: "Mama's coming!" and "Daddy's home!" The first phrase generated the kind of excitement that inspired us to action (i.e. washing the breakfast dishes in record-breaking time before she got to the front door, sweeping and mopping the floor in the same amount of time, standing in front of the TV to cover the fading white dot so she wouldn't know we had been watching it instead of washing the breakfast dishes and sweeping and mopping the floor). The second phrase generated the kind of excitement that made our days worth living.
We could count on Daddy coming home in the same way we could count on the sun to rise and set. In the same way we could count on his kissing us all good-bye in the morning before he went to work, making the rounds of the breakfast table while joking about how good his breakfast tasted coming off our lips, and he was bound to get full before he got out the door. If by some distraction he happened to miss one of us, that person's day was ruined until he came home.
That's the thing about Dad that's most impressive: We could count on him. No matter how tough times became, we could count on him to keep a roof over our heads, food in our bellies and--coupled with Mom's sewing skills and ingenuity--clothes on our backs. We could count on him to go to work and come home again. We could count on him and Mom to make sure we got to wherever we needed to go even if an event was 10, 20, 50 or 600 miles away (such as when the Thespian Society went to NYC). And we could count on him to wear his smile of steel in everything we counted on him to do for us, even if it cost money, which it usually did.
That was the one thing I used to think I could not count on Dad for--money. I used to think he was a tightwad: my childish perspective on him for too long. This notion was made almost indelible when I went with him to the laundromat in Trumansburg to do a mountain of laundry (either we had no washer and dryer or they weren't working at the time) and I observed that he would not put one more dime in those dryers that would have made the difference between damp and dry clothes. We folded them while still damp.
My opinion, along with my perspective, has changed. Our father is not and never has been a tightwad. He recently said to me that he wanted to help me (when I needed it) as much as he could in every way that he could. It occurred to me that he has always felt that way toward all of us. If he appeared to be tight, it was because he had to make his means stretch to meet the needs of fourteen of us. If more money was needed, he could be counted on to find a way to help us make it. I earned my rent for the 1973-74 school year at BYU by becoming an integral part of his ingenious "beet-thinning machine" through the summer of '73.
The truth about Dad is he's generous, and careful with money because he does not love it, and he wanted to teach us not to love it. He wanted to teach all of us to be upright and good in every way, and he did it by showing us his good example, which we could count on. I'm going to go visit him soon, but before I do I will call to make sure that he's home. He usually is, and it makes my days worth living.
3 comments:
I remember Dad always saying as he went around the table, "Kiss me quick! I'm off, Good-bye!" I love you, Dad!
Speaking of Dad and money, I remember as a Sophomore in college, I was completely broke. I never told anyone, but I was out of groceries and had missed a couple of meals already. Out of the blue, Dad called and asked how I was doing. I told him I was fine. He kept questioning me, not seeming to believe me. I finally confessed my situation. He told me he would send me some money for groceries and that I should pay him back when I could. I don't think I ever did. In reality I don't think I ever could. It wasn't really about the money. It was about the love a dad for his daughter. He cared enough to call when I was determined to make it on my own and let me know I didn't have to do it all by myself. I love you too, Dad.
Thanks Teddie for sharing your thoughts and experiences about Dad. I really enjoyed it.
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