The Best Dad Ever

My Dad was the best dad you could ever imagine. I share this story about the kind and gentle man who helped each of us kids grow up. I write this to encourage you to love your children as we were helped along the way and to think about your memories.

People in town thought my dad would remarry to help him with his six kids, but I don’t think he ever found anyone to compare with my mom. She died when we were five.

Our father had his hands full. The twins (that would be my sister and me) were born in 1935, weighing 2.5 pounds each at birth in a small town in southeast Texas. We had two older brothers and two older sisters. When we were born, we were so tiny. Neighbors, my mom and the rest of the family thought we, (the twins) would not live. Everyone thought, “They are just too small.”

My mom had cancer and realized she wouldn’t live. She cried copious tears but got to see her tiny babies. My dad wrapped us in tiny blankets and packed us in two different shoe boxes. The kids put the boxes close to the wood stove in our small living area: we thrived, but Mama died when we were five.

My twin (and our older sister, Mary Sue) loved to play outside: climb trees, hopscotch, and pretend we were the mom. If we became rowdy, Dad would assign the guilty kid to stay inside to stir the soup. We went from loud to lonesome without a mom. Dad’s strong voice helped us grow without another woman.

Sandy, my twin, stayed back a year in school. Smaller and less sure of herself, she didn’t go to school until I faced the fierce second grade teacher. I became Sandy’s coach and best friend. We were tight! It worked. Fights and fussing usually stayed between Mary Sue and us.

My dad had been in the military and had served his time much earlier. When Mom died, we numbered six, all different, all wanting Dad’s attention. We had a neighbor lady who would come to our house and help with the chaos. She helped with getting us to pick up the meager number of toys and clothes. We all got duties. Since Sandy and I were the youngest, we had the least work and discipline. On Saturday afternoons, Dad would gather up all of us, whoever was home, and take us to the movies. We loved Movie Day. People raved about my dad. His deep voice and big blue eyes remain fast in my memories. We weren’t perfect kids, but he seemed to know exactly what was needed for immediate action. I recall the fun we had on the playground when he participated with us. I recall the times he rode the “ocean wave” and was there to patch us up from falls.

People would ask him: how can you handle the noise with all the kids coming and going as well as keeping our tiny kitchen spic and span? We all had assignments. The brothers helped in the fields and at the sawmill, while the three of us girls would take turns cooking or helping in the barn. We liked it when we had a full cupboard as it meant a bigger amount of food on our plates. I can still smell vegetable soup with potatoes from the neighbors. They often brought potatoes for us, and we grew many vegetables behind the garage. Times were tough, but we never thought about it.

Dad worked hard. He was strict but not a person to be overly severe unless it was physical play that might spurt blood during playtime. Loud voices might prevail occasionally but Dad always tried to find a solution without any physical pain. He was more likely to separate the guilty for worthwhile approaches. I know my brothers often cleaned out the barn or helped us in the kitchen. Those tasks were more like lessons than punishment. I remember the day that the three of us girls made angels in the dirt. We got to do the laundry for a month!

Dad could not afford college for the kids, yet all six of us went to good colleges by working part time and receiving scholarships. The bad thing was…no mom. We missed her but we did well finding work. Patience, exploring for solutions, and kindness of our neighbors all contributed to our success as we followed his lead as a kind, loving parent and citizen of the world.

We had an older sister who died from a terrible case of pneumonia when she was less than thirty. Mostly it was me, Mary Sue and Sandy as our little tribe.

Where is your dad today? What memories do you recall? Not everyone had happy days, but our dad was the best ever!

Today I’m an old lady with memories. What are you doing to honor your dad? Is he still around? Can you hug him or send him a box of candy? Or old photos? It’s a day to honor and recall your own experience, whether good or bad. Let’s hope our children and their children will recall stories from your heart today.