Birthday Tribute to Daddy

Daddy was much older than most men, being already 50 years old when I was born. He had always wanted a baby daughter, having had 2 sons of his own and finished raising a step daughter and was raising a step son. He had also always wanted his own diner.

He grew up the youngest of seven children of Albert Andrew-Alverson and Alice Elsie (Bunting) Lester in Accord, NY. His parents, hardworking, urged their children to be the same. Leaving school after 8th grade, he worked several jobs always being drawn to diners. He married much too young, tried an unsuccessful stint in the Army, then returned to face his responsibilities. He had a wife and two young sons and was always looking for his place in this world. I have gleaned information from old newspaper articles and know that as difficult as life was for Daddy, God was there the whole time, protecting him from others and from himself. He had a plan for him and nothing stands in God's way. Daddy, successfully this time, joined the US Army and served overseas during WWII as a cook, saying "No one in my unit ever got sick when I was cooking!" My brothers, Bill and Jack also joined the US Army, serving in different capacities during the same war. Though difficult at times, they all grew to love him, even working with him. My brother Bill also found himself leaning towards cooking in diners and owned one for a short time with the help of Daddy. In the late 40's Daddy co-owned the Rockface Diner in Cairo, NY with the Rose brothers whom he knew from his Army days. By the early 60's, Daddy had become the sole owner of the diner.

We started our working years there, eventually wandering off to other local establishments but we knew where our roots were. My brother, Cary and I knew no other way and had nothing to compare it to. We had no choice but to compete with the diner and make the best of it. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em and in our teen years that's just what we did as our sister had already done.

But what was it like to have a daddy who worked 14 hours a day; 7 days a week? Growing up in Sandy Plains, we all woke together in the morning and Daddy tucked me in at night. We didn't get to play as afternoons were meant for naps; his, not mine! We joined him at work on Wednesday evenings, as that was shopping day for Mommy. The grocery store where my brother was now working was across the street from the diner. We would have our groceries delivered there and then enjoy a table reserved for us in the dining room and all the sights, sounds and smells a diner had to offer. The waitresses were called to pick up their orders by listening for the buzzer. One buzz was for the dining room waitress; two buzzes for the counter waitress; three buzzes was for me. Happily, I would hurry into the kitchen where Daddy would have prepared my supper and Mommy's, too! I was never allowed to eat it there by him, but I could have my dessert there ... most always home-made chocolate cream pie. Dad would take breaks at the counter where that very pie was made earlier in the day by our baker. It was also where Daddy read the paper, had his supper ... and I had my pie. I would also have the chance to watch Daddy make mashed potatoes in the big mixer, and I would be a big help to him by adding chunks of butter! Mommy and I would enjoy our supper and converse with those who wandered over to our table. Usually, I would hear 3 more buzzes a little later and would scurry to the kitchen to find Daddy smiling with some quarters in his hand for the jukebox. I could choose any songs I wanted as long as I gave at least once choice to Mommy!

Homework was done at that table many nights, especially as I got older, staying after school and then needing a ride home. I could walk to the diner, but walking home was 3 miles and would have been most often in the dark so that was not really an option. Instead, after cheerleading practice I would wander down to the diner, arms laden with notebooks, text books, etc...back packs were not cool in the 1960's. There I would spread out at our table and work away. Sometimes, teachers would come in to eat... and find me busy! This was good for my reputation as my grades were not stellar! At least they knew I was trying. They also knew that Daddy was too busy to help and in those days, many mothers had only an 8th grade education...something they were trying to change.

To be continued...