November 28, 1913 – The day my daddy (Pete) was born. Had he lived he would be 103; as it was he lived to 63. He died from a heart attack, unexpected by those around him. After he was gone, we saw the signs. He likely knew it would be soon. We did not know. He wasn’t much of a talker. He spent his last day picking out carpet to put in their new home. The one he never lived in.
As a farmer he was much like most of his peers. Arranging with the corner grocery store and the town bank to buy on credit. Buying pigs and feeding them hoping for a good sow with big litters. How much feed will be needed to last until the cows can be turned into the fields. Tilling the soil, fertilizing, planting. Waiting for rain? Will it come in time? It did come soon enough but, alas, much too much water so little seedlings were washed over by the soil. Plant again. And again. And sometimes, again. In all of it, he never uttered a vulgar word, kicked the dog nor vented anger.
And he never worked on a Sunday beyond what was required to take care of the animals. Even when the bunkhouse was full of migrant workers. Even if it looked like rain would come in and ruin the crop. Now some of my readers might think this was going too far! To that I just say he lived what he believed regarding that issue. And in the long run, he made more money than he used up.
But lest I make him sound like milk toast, I confess he could sound rather harsh yelling at a stubborn calf or a cow that kicked over the milk bucket. And he had a dead eye when it came to shooting a rattle snake or feeding cats directly from the cow’s teat! I don’t know how he did it, but he raised kids who would much rather be obedient than take a chance on … What? I do not know.
Sweet aroma 
Oneta, I love your story about your Daddy. Both your parents are a fond memory growing up in Campo and spending time at their home east of town, mostly overnight parties with Verna. Those were very good days to have lived. Thank you, Madelyn Eden
Thank you, Madelyn. Yes, that was a memorable time. We enjoyed our relationships when we were in Campo, school and church. I still find myself jokingly singing, “Here we sit like flies on a garbage can, waiting for our food. Food, Food, we want food. repeat, repeat, repeat….. Remembering the school bus trips. 😀
This is a simple yet beautiful tribute to your father. I admire him for remembering “the Sabbath day to keep it holy.” Why do we questions God’s instructions?
We do let the worries of tomorrow bother us too much today. Many do not know how to relax with the Lord, and let Him refresh us.
Just got back last night from visiting my folks (and other family) over the holiday. Dad is not 87 and mom not far behind. LOVE the time I have with them!!
I missed you. Did a bit of back reading on your blog. You are always a reward for my time. We also had a nice time with our family. During table games I said something like, “You young’uns ….” Don’t remember exactly what. Then I took note of the fact that “you young’uns” were all grandparents. We had a good laugh. Thanks for checking me.
This is a beautiful post about your dad 🙂
He was a good dad. I’ve been blessed with good men in my family. Thanks for the comment.
Memories that are clear and last life long. Thank you for sharing. I thank God for the good men in my life.(long gone home my Dad) but memories! Father, brother, husband and now two sons and two grandsons. Cycle of life. Love reading your blog reminds me of this always.
Thank you, dear Faye. We share much in common, don’t we? Mostly being members of God’s family. Past doesn’t mean much except for those who have stable and secure backgrounds. God evens us out!
Such a beautiful rendering of the admiration of a daughter… Thank you for sharing!
What a beautiful legacy!!!
Thank you, Debbie L. Good to see you again.