My Daddy

Some men were meant to be called father, some dad, some pops, but daddy is the only name that really fit my dad. He later became Pa to the grand kids, and that fit, but we called him daddy.
He was tough, he worked hard, he loved his family, he did what was right, he was generous, he was kind, he loved our momma, he loved the Lord in a childlike faith.
I didn't always appreciate him when I was a kid. He was grouchy and a stick-in-the-mud. He always said he would rather eat a bologna sandwich at home than to go out to dinner, but he went when mom insisted. When we went to the Grand Canyon, he said, "Well, it looks just like it does on tv." That made me crazy. I have never understood that way of thinking. If there's an option for me to see a ballgame live or on tv, I'll take the live experience every time. I'd rather go to a concert than to watch a performance on television, but not my dad. He loved his television and was very content just watching the world through that little box. This served him well in his later years because he never got bored.
I'm always shocked at the number of times I refer to the things I learned from my dad. He taught by example, and I never even realized I was paying attention.
He loved to garden and expected us to love his produce. If he called to tell us that corn was ready, he meant that he expected you to come and get your share immediately. That never really went over very well, but we pretty much did what he asked all our lives.
He was a master craftsman. He could take a piece of wood and make a beautiful piece of furniture our of it. My prized possessions are the five-piece panel doors in my kitchen that Daddy made by hand.
-Daddy used to do work for many families in Shawnee that caused him to develop a relationship with all the family. Their kids all loved him. One story that reveals the thoughtfulness and kindness of my father was when one of the little boys who was missing a hand because of a lawnmower accident was trying to play cards with his friends. Daddy saw what trouble he was having, so he went home that night and made card stands for all of the kids so that the little boy wouldn't feel singled out.
Acts like that endeared him to the families he worked for.
-When I was a kid, we had a cocker spaniel named Curly. Curly was fat like cockers sometimes get, so when we went to the cellar, Curly couldn't breath in the enclosed space. Daddy would put Curly up on the top shelf of the canned vegetables and hold him up there so that he could put his head out the vent and breathe.
-Daddy had to be the "head-of-household" for my sisters for many years while they were single parents. He never complained about having to fix the things that fell apart in both of their houses.
-Daddy served in WWII in the Army. He never really talked about the war much except to say that the reason he took a shower and shaved every night before going to bed was because when he was in the Philippines, they didn't have good water to drink much less bathe. He considered it a privilege to go to bed clean every night. He also said he did it for mom because he worked hard all day, and she shouldn't have to sleep next to a sweaty old man.
-Daddy made stilts for all the kids in our neighborhood one summer. That was the funniest sight. Kids of all ages walking around on stilts up and down the street. I'll bet visitors thought they had stumbled onto a strange place on East Washington in Tecumseh.
-Daddy was a good neighbor. He may not have had much in common with the people who lived around him, but they would all say that Nate was a good neighbor. He was not nosey, he was willing to help if needed, he kept his place up. Probably the only thing he could be criticized for in the neighborhood was his old rusted pickup. For Daddy a pickup was a tool to be used for work. His never got pampered; he seldom had a new one; his was always very utilitarian, no fancy gadgets. It probably didn't do much for the look of the neighborhood.
-He hated being home alone. When we were kids, if Daddy couldn't work because of bad weather, we always knew he would come and get us at school. That was awesome. It didn't happen very often, so those days were really special. He always said he couldn't rest with a cellar in the backyard when we were in that big old school.
-He loved his grand kids. He was proud of his family. He was a good son to his parents. He was a good brother to his siblings. He was a wonderful uncle to both his and mom's side of the family.
-He was a talker. I get my garrulousness from him. OK, that may not have been such a great legacy.
-A story that tells volumes about what it was like to be his daughter took place when I was in high school. I went to play practice which was over at 10:00. I went to the Ruby Dee (local drive-in) and started hanging out with some kids that were there. I was sitting in the back seat of a friend's car when he looked in his rearview mirror and said, "Debbie, is that your dad?"
Daddy tapped on the window and said, "Sis, it's time to come home." No drama, no scene. None was necessary, but I assure you I always went straight home after that.
He was solid. I always felt safe when Dad was in the house.