Birthday Tribute to Daddy (part 3)

My junior and senior years in high school found me, my nephew Ricky and some of our friends working for Daddy. I worked afternoons and evenings. It was tough. It certainly was not as much fun as when I was little. Daddy was exhausted; burned out; physically ill. Years of smoking was catching up to him and the summer of my junior year found Daddy so ill, he could not work. He could not breathe. He was hospitalized with emphysema and they were not sure he would live through the night. Helplessly and hopelessly terrified, all I could do was work. I went to see him the next night; a Tuesday night and sat with him while he struggled for air. I remember the All Star game was on and he didn't have a clue...that was not like Daddy.

I don't remember who worked for me. I do remember going back to work and essentially firing the afternoon cook...one who demanded his pay, when the paymaster was at death's door. The only worker who did this, he threatened to quit and I told him it might be a good idea! He did. Then, alone, I cried. My older brothers, Bill, a postal worker who took on the morning cooking and Jack, a worker at IBM who took over the books for Daddy both said it was ok ... that it was probably a good thing since all the others had agreed to a late pay envelope. His type was not needed in our diner family.

David S, a long time summer employee, who had left just a few weeks before for a better paying job found out Daddy was in the hospital and that we no longer had an afternoon cook. He offered to come to work from 3 -9 and didn't want to be paid. Jack would have none of that and hired him on the spot. Dave helped us through those weeks of summer and Daddy slowly got better, returning to work, grateful for the support of his family and friends.

Sadly, times were changing. It was difficult to watch what was once a lovely and lively diner, begin to crumble financially. Sadly, it wasn't just us. Our resort town of Cairo didn't seem to have the draw it used to. People were looking for more exciting places to eat and take vacations. Daddy never said anything but he didn't have to. I helped him do payroll and realized that as he filled the pay envelopes for the cooks, waitresses and dishwashers; paid the bread man, the milk man, the meat man and the egg man, he was leaving what was left for our family. It wasn't much. It wasn't long before he knew it was time to sell and he put the diner on the market.

When I was 18, I had saved enough money for a down payment on a car. I was looking in the paper for a used one and thought I found it: a 1965 Volkswagen Beetle. It took the paper into the diner kitchen to show Daddy. I never saw him look like this before, his face was red, his eyes were, too .. and then he sobbed. He choked out the word, "No!" Recovered enough to speak he said, in a controlled but somewhat angry voice: "Don't you remember? I'm supposed to buy you your first car!" Instantly I remembered my childhood scrapbook picture, his promise to me, and blurted out before my own tears took over, "Daddy, I don't want a pink convertible!" I hadn't thought about that pink convertible in years! We hugged each other at that counter in the diner kitchen and I told him I understood. Things were different; times had changed and everything was really ok. He then told me that he did NOT want me driving a "death trap" beetle but we could go car shopping.

Daddy was now closing the diner on Mondays so on that very next Monday, we answered an ad for a 1969 Opel Kadette Station Wagon; such a cute little car and only a year old. Traded in by it's owner because it was a little too small for his liking, it was just right for a college bound girl with lots of church youth group responsibilities. I could also reach the gas pedal! It had a standard transmission! Daddy didn't have time nor patience to teach me how to shift, but thankfully we lived in the country and the back roads soon recognized the sound of me grinding gears! The same back roads that just a few years earlier found my sister, Barb, teaching me how to drive! Though Daddy could not buy me my car, he took over the payments after I made the down payment. It was more than I had hoped for! Daddy gave me his best and I was so very thankful!

Daddy sold the diner in 1971 but what was to become of the man who always worked? What now? He refused to work for anyone being so independent all these years. So, he was content to sit in his chair by the window. He finally had the chance to read more than just the daily newspaper and read he did! Everything interested him and there was always a book or two waiting by his window.

Daddy took pride in his family and especially enjoyed the company of his granddaughter and her guitar, though she had no idea he was listening! He had the undivided attention of Mommy perhaps too much so, becoming cranky and demanding at times and with his health beginning to deteriorate, needed to have oxygen on a daily basis. For respite, Mommy took great delight in going shopping with her daughters and grandchildren! Daddy took great pride in my sister's ability to cook and manage restaurants. He taught her well and she enjoyed serving the public as he had done.

In 1974, Daddy gruffly told my then, boyfriend, Billy we were too young to get married all the while stifling a smile that soon spread across his face. He loved Billy. He loved that Billy loved me and loved his own family. He knew that our marriage was one made in heaven and Daddy was not about to argue with God! He gave me away to my handsome groom on a grand June day and danced at our reception. I had never seen him dance before. There is a first for everything!

It wasn't long before Daddy was able to take great delight in reading stories to his little grandson and watching him play and grow. He enjoyed the letters from Cary and Carole, even traveling to Arkansas to visit them. Their family was growing and he enjoyed reading of the events of their life that revolved at that time around their growing, little boy, Ethan. He enjoyed visits from Bill and Jack, now with grown families of their own, eager to hear stories of their successes and of the things he missed while being too busy during their growing up years.

A few regrets of course, but at 73 Daddy realized the forgiveness he had through Jesus Christ and this made such a difference in his last years. Comfortable, now, with who he was; where he'd been; that "the sins of his youth" had been forgiven, at 75 Daddy suffered a stroke late one night. After one last "talk" with his children, with only his eyes, he spoke volumes to his boys. Then sweeping his only good arm, he motioned to his son-in-law, my husband, to come closer. He reached out to Billy and with power that could only come from God, himself, grabbed his hand and pulled himself up to search his eyes. Billy, 'replied', "Dad, I'll take good care of her, you know I will!" And with that, Dad relaxed his grip and slowly sank back to his pillow. That was the last time I saw those beautiful blue eyes.

Daddy went home to be with his Savior the next evening; leaving a legacy of hard work, pride and love behind. Thank you Lord for my daddy...remembering him on the 108th day of his birth, February 16, 1903.