Today is my Dad's birthday, he turns 70. I've already called and wished him a Happy Birthday; the whole family of 3 of us now, sang him Happy Birthday, actually. He and his wife, Tammy, are on their way out to spend the day at Amish Country. Not bad for an old man of 70 years, huh?
My dad wouldn't want me to brag about him or play him up but guess what? This is my blog and we all know I'm gonna do and say whatever I feel like on it. So sit back and get to know some things about this country boy.
Al was born in Kentucky and he lived poorly. Think about it, folks, this was 1945. Most people had indoor plumbing and bathrooms. I own a 1920's farmhouse built in the mountains of VA and it has 2 full bathrooms. My dad's first house had zero. He used an outhouse. But that was normal to him so no big deal.
His dad wasn't a very good example. Just the opposite, actually. He was an alcoholic, he ran around with other women, and was gone most of the time. He didn't provide too well for his family...at least not in legal ways. And that's all I'm going to say about that.
Now my grandma was another story. She was very loving and my Dad worshiped her. He still does. While he was still in elementary school, they packed up and left Kentucky to live in an apartment in the city in Ohio. His mom was pregnant and this was not good news. Dad was 8 years old at the time, the youngest of four, and his mom was already ill with other health problems. Pregnancy was making her even more sick. (I learned a few years ago that her kidneys were failing her.) Can you imagine a young boy living pretty much alone with his mom since his dad was gone all the time and his older siblings were all out of the house by that time, seeing his very pregnant mom getting carted off on an ambulance stretcher? She grabbed his hand, told him she loved him, and reminded him to be a good boy, and that was the last time he saw her alive.
My grandma died within days of giving birth to a little girl. The baby died days later, too. They were buried together in the same coffin. Little Al had lost his best friend. And guess what his Dad did? Took him back to the hills of Kentucky and left him with an old neighbor "for a little while so he could figure things out." That was the last little Al saw of his dad because he stayed with those old neighbors for years. My grandpa took off and never came back! Can you imagine?
Eventually Al's siblings took turns taking care of him but that wasn't easy for anyone. They were married and having families of their own. Al got shuttled around a lot, even living with a high school teacher who believed in him and wanted to help and also members of his church. He never lived with his Dad again. When he would see him things were strained, to put it mildly.
Al did well in school. When he graduated he wanted to serve a mission for his church but he didn't have any money to pay for it himself. At that time they had what they called work missions. Poor young men could be called somewhere in the US to help build buildings and whatnot. My Dad jumped on the opportunity. Many of the other young missionaries were poor and uneducated so my dad would be the one to read scripture to them. This was in the 1960's! So hard for me to fathom.
Remember, this was in the 1960's and there was something major happening in the US besides missionary work...the Vietnam War. The work missionaries were different than proselyting missionaries...they could be drafted. Al, now a young adult, was drafted and had to leave his work mission to serve in the Army. Here is his real army picture.
Do you want to know something amazing? A testimony for getting as much education as you can? Al was the only young man who knew how to type. He had taken a typing class in high school and so when the Captain or whoever asked who knew how, Al raised his hand. After boot camp, while all his buddies were getting called to Vietnam and other foreign sounding places, this young man was sent to Iowa. To process papers. Because he was the only one who could type. And I firmly believe that is why I am honored to call him my father today. He never had to go to the jungles of Vietnam and be a participant in active warfare. Phew!
While in Iowa he met a young lady working for the Army, Jessie. Long story short, they ended up getting married and soon thereafter my older sister was born. Afterwards they had fertility issues so I didn't come along until 3 years later. Those fertility issues must have vanished because there were 5 of us kids in all. Here is my favorite picture of me and my Dad from when I was a baby.
Times were tough for Al and Jessie. Neither of them had college educations but not many others did, either. Again, long story short, all I can say is that Al did what most fathers dream of...he tried his best to do better than his father and create an environment so that his kids could do even better than him.
Here is my favorite recent picture of me and my Dad.
And I've got to go. I love you Dad! Today of all days you are my 'ole favorite!
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