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Today is Veterans Day. It's never meant that much to me before. But my dad passed away suddenly a couple weekends ago, 89 years old.......he was a WW II veteran. I posted about it here on DU, and that because of financial problems, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to make it back to his funeral. Just goes to show that there are still some very kind people in the world. A number of you offered to help, and one DU'er--I don't know if he wants to remain anonymous so I will just say he's my angel--paid for my entire round trip airfare. Further, when every airline I tried was not making the right connections, he got online and found me a flight that did before I completely lost my mind. If I have any religion at all anymore, it's the philosophy of Pay It Forward. Watch the movie by that name sometime, and you'll see what I mean.
I talked to numerous agencies in those few days, and my senator's office. All I can say is, if that's the kind of runaround our service people usually get, no wonder so many are suicidal. The only thing the government would come up with was a framed flag for my mom, and a small bronze plaque for the foot of my dad's grave.
I flew all night to get to Louisville, and walked off the plane, jumped in a friend's car, and we arrived at the funeral just as it began. Got to see many family members that I have not seen in years, from NC, SC, and FL. This included one nephew that with his brother, our family has been looking for ever since his dad--my brother--passed away nearly 20 years ago. This one graduated from U of K, and is now a cop in Lexington, with a wife and two kids. I tracked him down thru a last ditch effort with an old friend just before I left Calif. His brother had to stay home sick with the flu, but we've been playing phone tag since. The reunion has helped heal my heart a little bit.
We buried my dad between my two sisters on a hill behind their church on a beautiful warm, breezy autumn day with all the trees in gorgeous color. I do miss that in Calif. By that evening it was pouring rain. I came home with three of my dads hats that still smelled like him. He favored the British type driving caps.
My dad instilled in all of his kids--all five of us--a great love of nature. He would work 12 hour days, 6 days a week, and then on Sunday, he'd either take all of us out on a long bike ride thru the country, trailing out behind him like a bunch of ducklings, or take us hiking at one of the state parks or Bernheim Forest. He was always fascinated by wildlife, and we'd spend hours watching the otters' antics at Bernheim, going to the zoo, or his favorite, "Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom" on tv.
He was a man of quiet talents. I was simply astounded as a kid that my dad could sit backwards on the handlebars of his old Schwinn, pedal, and actually ride the bike that way. We were all astounded, and chagrined, when my dad won a bumper pool table thru his job, and when it arrived, discovered that he was something of a pool shark. Apparently this was a skill he learned in the Army. He was also deadly at horseshoes, badminton, and lawn darts. Up until he had his stroke five years ago, my dad always kept a huge vegetable garden--something nearly all of his kids took up themselves as adults. He was the first person I ever knew that was into "health food" before that was even a common term, eating things like wheat germ.
Daddy could be something of a prankster. He would also take us fishing sometimes on Sundays, all of the kids with those long old cane poles that were carefully stored wrapped up in canvas and tied with twine, my dad with a rod and reel. On several occasions, I remember him catching crawdads in a jar, and taking them home to put in my mom's aquarium when she wasn't looking. She'd start wondering after a day or so where all her guppies were going to, and my dad would be walking around snickering. All hell would break loose when she finally found the culprits!
I never saw my father in anything other than dark dress slacks and a carefully pressed dress shirt (except in a tux for my wedding). The only concession he may make to the heat would be to roll up the sleeves a little. He was always the southern gentleman, originally from South Carolina, with the soft accent of Sumter. I think that was the worst part of the stroke that paralyzed the entire right side of his body--the affront to his dignity. One of my great regrets was that he was never able to come visit our little ranch here in the mountains. He would have loved it.
I have the utmost respect for a man who could raise five kids--two of which were always in and out of hospitals with Type 1 diabetes--on a door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesman's earnings. No health insurance. And when both of my sisters as adults were eventually divorced, my dad was always right there to take care of them again, right to the end. As the Dave Matthews song goes, "You should never have to bury your own babies".
I miss you Daddy........
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