My Dad (October 9, 2016)

October 9, 2016

Dear Children, Grandchildren and Friends,

I haven't written since last Christmas and have no excuse whatsoever. I'm not sure if you want to take the time to read my ramblings but then I began to think of how I would have loved to read what my dad would have written about his thoughts and experiences. He only went to the 8th grade (it still stands over near his old farm home) but we could never trip him up in spelling. I wish he'd have written about the WPA ("we poke along") "OPA" (other people's affairs"), John L. Lewis who headed the coalmines he worked in during the depression--one was only 36" high! The time I heard him yell to the neighbor "The dictator died" and the neighbor yelled back "Hitler"? and he yelled back "Roosevelt"! His view of politics if written would have left no doubt where he stood. As the oldest of 5 children I got the brunt of his thinking. He hated unions, and being forced to contribute to the "United Way" because of the places like Planned Parenthood who received some of the money. There were times when to the exasperation of his bosses in Bethlehem Steel Mill where he later worked, when he kept them from getting 100% of the men to contribute. He was upset when he heard there were some players on the Pittsburgh Pirates who were not from Pittsburgh. He didn't believe in intentional walks when he came to my baseball games and didn't believe me when I told him my manager ordered me to do so. He used a Damascus twist barrel 12 gauge single shot shotgun and sometimes got both rabbits when they ran out of a brush pile at the same time--shot one and reloaded and got the other one. He got in some "knock down drag out" fights at the Jenners Recreation Hall poolroom and I had to go and get his torn shirts the next day. He was an expert pool player and was very tricky when a newcomer challenged him to a game for money. He'd let him win until a large "pot" came out and then he'd clean them out. We lived in an old mining company house heated with coal we would gather out of the hot slag pile the mine threw out.--no hot water and an out-house and wash tub was our bathroom. I could hear my mother and dad arguing about money every night when they went to bed--Mom spent too much at the company store and there was nothing left in his paycheck but a little "script"--the money they paid with and you had find a kind soul to exchange it for the real stuff--usually "Jess" the barber who would do that for us if we wanted to go out of town for something like a 10 cent movie. Tennessee Ernie’s' "Sixteen Ton" was literally true.  He would complain if his partner didn't work hard enough to get sixteen ton. We had no car so he would take me on his shoulders and hitchhike to my grandfather's farm where he would work and bring a chicken home for supper. When he took me fishing I had to use a bent pin for a hook--hooks were too dangerous he said.

No need to comment on my ramblings they are mainly meant for our 9 children. I'll write again before the election DV. I started out to write about the Trump/Clinton debate which starts in an hour but got side tracked thinking about my dad who came to know Christ as his Savior at 50 years of age and as a new man in Christ kept the faith until the Lord called him home at 77 YOA.