He was a wonderful man - my Dad

I promised right from the start of this that I was going to tell some things about my family, and I just don't seem to get around to it. Well, here goes. I don't how much of what I write, you already know, but maybe you'll learn something new.

This is taken primarily from the book I wrote in 2004, "I Remember When". I gave a copy of this book to each of my children, and grandchildren. So, if it sounds familar, that's probably why. I am not going to tell the whole story at one sitting - that would be just too much. So, I am going to kind of serialize it, with maybe some new notes, or additional comments thrown.

Fom my book - Dad - I love remembering my Dad. To me he was a remarkable man. I very rarely saw him get mad at either one of us kids. Mother was the one who had to do all the disciplining. (More about this later.) Even she did not get very angry very often. I can remember her taking a yard stick to get my brothr out of bed once in awhile, but not very often.

Dad - well, as a young man, he played the violin. He liked to ride a bicycle and even a motorcycle. That kind of activities came to a halt when in May of 1917, at 25 years old, he lost his right hand. He was working for the Hahn brothers who lived just across the road from the house in which his mother was born, about two miles from his last residence. Every morning on the way to work, he would ses a skunk cross the road. So he decided he was going to get rid of that skunk. On this particular morning, he took his shotgun with him, and sure enough, right on schedule, there was the skunk. He stopped his car, got out, took his gun, and his dog who always was wih him, jumped out of the car. Dad put the gun over the fence and leaned the barrel of the gun against the fence post. He placed his hand on top of the post while he climbed the fence. The dog went through the fence, hitting the gun and causing it to fire, filling the palm of Dad's hand with shot. Dad got back into his car and drove approvimately three miles to the doctor. Remember, this is 1917. The doctor could do nothing to save his hand, so he removed it at the hoint, using the skin from the back of the hand to cover the stump of his arm. I do not believe he ws hospitalized at all. (I believe, had this happened today, they probably could have saved his hand.)

Dad did not like the bare stump of his arm hanging out of his shirt sleeve, plus he needed something to protect it from getting hurt all the time as he worked around the ranch. So Mom created for him an "arm pad" and an "arm sock". Actually, there were two "socks". One was for dress, and one for work. The pad was originally made by taking pieces of flannelette, and sewing them together to make a rather shapeless "sock" for his arm, which would be covered by the "arm sock". Later, the pads were made by sewing several sock toes together. This "pad" was usually about 3-4 inches long, so it ent up his arm a short distance. Then over the pad, he would wear one of the "socks". The dress sock was made by takng a black man's dress sock, cutting away the heel and sewing that area closed. Then, depending on how long the sock was, Mom would either leave it the way it was, or she might cut a bit off the top of the sock. She would sew into the top of the sock a round rubber garter such as women wore to hold up their nylons. When he put the sock on, he would put another garter on the outside of the sock and then roll the whole thing down his aram, to just below the elbow. Worked real slick. For his work socks, he would use a heavier cotton sock (usually white or grey) to make the over-sock. What a god-send it was shen they started making tube socks - no more heels to fool with - just sew an eleastic garter at the top, and it was ready to go. (To be continued)

My memories of my Dad (and Mother, too) are still very much alive. I can still remember so vividly, some of the things we did together, and I often quote some of his favorite sayings. I'll probably get around to some of this at some point. They were never a part of my book.

My everyday life is going along, just that - everyday. Not too much exciting happens in the environment in which I live.

I, as I'm sure most of you, was deeply shaden by the recent tragedy at Ft. Hood, Texas. Isn't it a shame, that life can become so overpowering that someone woud take lives - not just their own, but those of numerous others who were completely innocent of any involvement in the situation. I think of other similar cases - some mentioned by the press, and some not. We still hear a lot about the shootings at Columbine High School, and yet we hear very little, if anything anymore, about the shootings right here at the Olivehurst High School back in 1992. Maybe thee weren't as many people involved, but it was no less tragic. The school was locked down, busses were delayed, and my personal involvemnt in this one was, the man I was living with at the time, (Butler) was raising his youngest grandson, and of course, the bus was late, so the kid was late getting home. Bud was an impatient man, and of course, he blamed the kid for being late. Thank goodness I was able to call him, tell him what had happened, and explain that the kid was not to blame for being late getting home. I remember exactly where I was, and what I was doing when the bomb went off at the Federal Building in Oklahoma City. I remember exactly what I was doing when Pres. Kennedy was shot. So many of the tragedies that have occurred during my life, I can remember so vividly what I was doing at that moment. Thank God, I also have many, many good memories to cover some of the tragedies.

Enough for now -