Sometime the most random things pop in my head. I believe they are referred to as "core memories" today.
I am always struck by the fact I have lived much longer than my daddy. Daddy died at 53 years old, far too young. I am also amazed at how much guiding, love, discipline and living he left with me. He was a smart man, could do about anything with his hands and was one heck of a brick mason. He didn't get to finish high school, simply by virtue of the times he grew up in. Despite his interrupted education, after a stint in World War II in the Navy, he landed a good job. He was one of the hardest working people I ever knew. He didn't need much sleep and loved to hunt and fish. He fiercely loved his people too.
I am the youngest sibling and the only girl. I was a daddys girl. Not that my mama didn't love me and I loved her, it was just different with daddy and I. Maybe because we were more similar in personality (which we now know is a smidge of ADHD.)
Sidenote: I am sure I nearly drove my mother to drink at times. I never shut up, was never still, always wanted to know how to do things and she was so very patient with me. I remember her saying to my brother Crant, "just take her outside and keep her busy for just a few minutes." Which he did, where she could catch her breath. Bless her.
Daddy was the disciplinarian that could talk to you and make you feel two inches tall. I always cried and swore I would never do whatever it was, ever again. Mama, also a disciplinarian was concerned more about things like our behavior toward others, manners and care of our bodies. Did you bathe? Did you brush your teeth again, you ate raisins. (Yes, I had to brush my teeth after a tiny pack of raisins.) We got sweets only on our birthday or a holiday. However, daddy did not share mama's dedication to eating no sweets. If you ever want to know where I got my "a little bit sneaky", I think I know.
~~Recently, as my mama would say, "I was dragging". Not go-to-the-doctor sick but not well. I did not stick my head in the studio all week, which is not at all like me. My husband kindly attended to me last week but in my head, I thought "he has no poptarts to offer". What's wrong with him?
When I was a child, if I was sick daddy would usually stay home with me because he had more seniority at work. It's hard to stay sick when you get the opportunity to stay home with your daddy too. Once mama took my temperature one more time, wrote down directions and kissed me (going over what daddy needed to do for me to survive the day) she was off to work. Daddy was dressed ready for the day, shaved, mustache trimmed, smelling of Old Spice. He would tuck me in on the couch, turn on cartoons or something I liked, while he made breakfast. He came back in the living room with a sly smile on his face. Did I want Poptarts or Fruit Loops to go with my breakfast? Wait, what? (I'm pretty sure daddy was confused because I never saw a box of Fruit Loops in my mama's cabinets, in my life) We aren't allowed that garbage.
I watched daddy stride out to his truck and return with a box of pre-sweetened cereal and a box of Poptarts. (I can hear my mothers words in my head, "that stuff is pure garbage")
I thought maybe he was afraid of mama, but later realized he simply chose the path of least resistance. (I was probably about 9 when I realized he was much smarter than I gave him credit for being) Who cares anyway, I have Poptarts.
I would drag my blanket to daddys chair to share. I piled up in his lap on one knee while he ate cereal and I ate warmed Poptarts while we watched cartoons. His coffee sat on the hearth beside his chair. Can I have another? Sure you can.
Best sick days of my childhood were the ones spent with daddy. While mama was the one who was always there when fevers ran so high we hallucinated, she bathed our bodies with cool cloths, held our head while we were sick and worried over us healing properly, sat up night after night at the hospital looking over you. Then daddy got the light duty days, but she would have it no other way.
I'm not sure if he ever told her about the sweets or if she just knew because I'm guessing I ricocheted off the walls after all the sugar. He put the sweets away before she got home. If she knew, she never said a word.
Those days are long behind us now. Mama and daddy filled all the parts of me to overflowing and gave us the very best childhood we could possibly have had. When society today would have considered us poor. I can't even imagine it being any better. Did they know what a wonderful job they did? Did they know how much we took in and retained to share with our children? Did they know how loved we felt?
I sure hope so because some days you simply need a Poptart.
