Postcards of a Father

Well, I call them post cards....those mental images that you carry around that define a person....

A Greyhound Bus, middle of Texas (I think) around 1952 or 3 or maybe even 4! Long, long ride.....it's night and the bus is standing room only.....Dad and I have been thru Colorado to visit his family and are coming back now from Mississippi....more family....later I realized Mum was in bed rest due to pregnancy and we took our vacation this way. Been standing in the isle forever and am starting to stumble because of fatigue....Dad asks a young woman if she would let me sit in her seat for a while...she refuses.....the driver hears the conversation and stops the buss, telling the lady to spell me for an hour of so.....as I'm dozing off, looking up at my incredibly tall and handsome Dad standing in the aisle with the clarity of an old man's memory I can now see the lines of worry and fatigue etched deep into his face.

Another vacation to Mississippi....1959.....our first and only new car...a '59 Chevy Biscayne...copper color, with no front seat (that's another story).....something called integration the subject of conversation of all the adults..... Never really paid attention myself...hey, I'm 12 years old, baseball, girls and my aunts fried chicken are what's important....oh, and as Guy Clark sings.....Watermelon Dreams.....hot day in Mississippi and ending it by about a dozen kids scarfing down iced watermelons....anyway, at the park for a picnic..a group of the southern men seated around and talking that integration stuff....maybe a dozen or so, all casual, ranging in age from the early 20's thru maybe 40...like I said.....old men! The snapshot is of that one day, but realizing that it happened everywhere down there....whenever Dad spoke on that subject....everyone listened....respectfully...Dad was always soft spoken, but all through his life, people valued his judgement.

Earlier in 1959.....Dad was a trouble shooter for a retail chain....we were transferred to Gallup, NM....the store there had problems with what was called "shrinkage"....Dad managed the store for a few months and things were doing OK, then one night we had the assistant mgr over for diner. Took me years to realize the honor my father did me...See, I can't remember the young fellows name....but he was married and maybe 22 or 23.....I really liked him, nice guy... Dad and this guy went out onto the front porch, and Dad had me tag along.....Turns out the guy had been pilfering the cash from the registers and the corporate people were going to be there in a few days and have him arrested... Dad told him this, and said....he wouldn't want the guy's new baby to grow up with a crook for a father...then told him that he heard that Alaska was booming and a man good get a clean start there....I assume he did...never saw the guy after that night. Took me years to realize why I was allowed to listen to that conversation.

1962.....a rare rare rare Sunday off for my Dad....a beautifully sunny day.....sitting in the right field bleachers with my father at Candlestick Park...watching our beloved Giants take two from the New York Mets.....the enjoyment on his face, and the sunburn on his balding head! Precious memories indeed.

The last one for now...1964 or 65......Dad took another Sunday off to take me to the Drag Races in Oroville, California.....we didn't do stuff like that very often.....and the times we did were so special...wish I could go back in person and just "be" with him then...to tell him thanks for the memories he was giving me.

I love you Dad.