My dad was not a rich man. He didn’t wear a suit to work. He was a printer for his entire life and never missed a day of work. He was a simple man who loved his family, but he did have a goofy sense of humor and loved to play tricks on us. He’d look outside and ask, “What is Mrs. Joyce doing up on the roof again?” We’d all rush to the window to see and then he’d laugh. He’d also knock under the kitchen table and ask, “Who is knocking at the door?” Once again, we’d run to see and he’d chuckle.
One Easter he brought home two baby ducklings. They thought Dad was their mama and they followed my dad all around the yard, quacking at him. He’d quack back at them and they’d have a conversation. After they got too large, we took the ducklings, Bonnie and Clyde, to Eastern College to live with the other ducks. Dad would save bread crusts all week and on Sunday afternoons, we’d go and feed the ducks.
When I was six, Dad brought home an elf on Christmas Eve. He told us that the elf had fallen off Blitzen. I didn’t see him because I was fast asleep, but I saw his tiny powdered-sugar footprints, all through the house, so I know it was true.
One Father’s Day, when our kids were small, we bought Dad a musical horn for his truck as a joke. We never thought he would actually use it. We’d hear Old Suzanna and You Are My Sunshine blaring down the street when his truck turned the corner to our house, as if some strange ice cream truck were coming. Dad loved it!
One thing our kids remember about Pop is that he chewed Wrigley’s Spearmint gum. He taught them to roll the silver paper to make a miniscule cup. He’d carefully fill it with water, over and over again. I think it held about eight drops of liquid, but the kids loved it. He loved the simple joys of life.
Did I say that my dad wasn’t a rich man? I certainly feel like a very rich daughter when I remember him.
Author: Anne Beardsley
Date: June 2013
Happy Father’s Day, Dad!