This week’s gratitude challenge is to write about why I’m thankful for one particular family member.
I’m finding that to be difficult because there are many for which I’m thankful.
However, since I have to pick one, I’m choosing my dad.
Although he thought he wanted a boy up until the moment I arrived, Daddy and I have been close from the very start.
Once I was out of diapers, I became Dad’s sidekick. I tagged along everywhere. He took me with him to irrigate, on trips to town for parts, and along for the ride when he was driving any of the farm equipment.
By the time I was four, my oldest brother had wed and started a family of his own. Our house was a busy, bustling place for the most part, and it was easy for a little girl to sometimes feel lost in the shuffle.
Our family, circa 1970-something. In the back is brother one with his lovely wife, and brother two. In the front is me, Mom with grandbaby one, Dad, and my sister.
Dad had a way of making me feel special, and it wasn’t just the candy he plied me with, either. It was the time we spent together. Sometimes he’d tell stories about when he was a kid, other times we’d just listen to his favorite radio station (which varied between country hits of the day, Paul Harvey and the livestock reports, and favorites from the 1950s). Through the stories he told, I learned lessons about life that serve me well today – and I also learned how to tell a story.
I’m sure there are many, many times it would have been much easier for Dad to leave me home than take me with him, but he almost always asked me to tag along.
And while I was doing all that tagging, I learned about hard work, loyalty, dedication, organization (no one can organize a cupboard like my dad), problem-solving, creative thinking, and perseverance.
My dad always seemed like he was in a hurry, yet I remember him taking time to shoot hoops with me in the shop and teaching me how to fish after he stocked our pond with bass. He also taught me how to drive, how to toast a perfect marshmallow, and how to set irrigation tubes.
Once, we were out moving the irrigation water in the cornfield when this horrible rain storm started. Dad tugged me down a row and we hunkered down in the corn beneath the leaves and listened to the rain pattering the ground. While we waited, he answered my many questions about how corn grew, and why the ears had silk, and how the stalks grew so tall.
As I detailed in Farm Girl, we had a lot of fun adventures, but at the heart of it all, I’m so grateful I had the opportunity to spend all that time with my dad.
And I’m grateful beyond words to grow up with a dad who loved me, encouraged me, and continues to cheer me on.
Wow a family member I am grateful for would have to be dad as well. I was my dad’s sidekick. My dad was and still is my hero. He always seemed to have all the answers and he made sure that I could change a water pump – spark plugs – air filter – oil filter – oil and tires on my car. He said until you can afford to pay someone or find some to do it for you, you need to know how to take care of your car. (The Lord blessed with a wonderful nephew Jason, who took care of all my oil changes when he got old enough to do them. Jason would be second choice). I went fishing with my dad and the year he bought mom a stand alone fire place for Christmas (in October) I got the worse case of poison ivy ever!!!
We started out on this cold Saturday morning and dad said to me “we are going to cut down this dead tree and cut it up for fire wood but first why don’t you pull those vines off the tree”
“ok” So I proceed to pull ALL these DEAD vines off the tree, I take off my flannel shirt so I am in just my tee shirt and jeans because this is hard work. Tree is clear of vines, dad pulls our the chain saw and cuts down the HUGH dead tree. Did I mention it was a HUGH tree. Down comes the tree and more vines have to be removed. Since he would not let me use the chain saw I got to pull the DEAD vines off the rest of tree. By night fall we had a nice pile of wood started and inside we go for dinner. Shower and to bed, exhausted…I wake up in the morning with this HORRIBLE RASH on my arms!!! Mom and granma check it out and say that is not a rash that is poison ivy. How did you get poison ivy when every thing around here is dead (we had already had a killing frost that year) When I explain to them what we did yesterday my granma starts laughing and says did you know that you can still get poison ivy from the dead vines. Gram it was dead there were no leaves to see that the vines were poison ivy they just looked dead. Dad laughs and said that’s ok, we are done with tree now any way….The poison ivy spread to stomach as well and the way to get rid of poison ivy was to paint it with iodine, but that did not have clear iodine then, only that awful yellow-orange-brown colored crap that turns your skin the same color. I was in high school and had to wear long sleeves till after Christmas before all the iodine finally wore off my skin. It was awful but dad and had a good time and years later actually laughed about the whole thing. He was and will always be my hero.
What a lovely tribute to your Dad, Kathy! Love the poison ivy story. I remember that iodine. Had a few mishaps with it, myself! So wonderful you had such a great Dad and such wonderful memories of him. Thank you for sharing! 🙂 Hugs to you dear friend!