Patience ,Calmness, Courage, Love- My Dad and Me

I woke up at 1:30 am this morning thinking about Dad and the man he was and the way he lived his life, and his impact on me, and what it meant to be a preacher's kid.

I wish I knew more about my Dad's upbringing. The third son of a third son of a line of preachers, he had two older brothers, three sisters one older and two younger. Taught school, coached girls basketball, got a degree and began preaching, Met Mom, also a teacher, got married secretly as her Dad did not want his youngest child to live in poverty on a ministers salary. Tried to enlist during WW 11 but denied due to cataracts, finished divinity school in Ohio prior to first assignment at Bartlettsville Oklahoma. Oldest son Johnny born while in Dayton, then three years later Paul born soon after their 1946 move to Muscatine Iowa , followed by me three years later. The EUB United Methodist church there grew tremendously during the late forties and fifties. Partly that was due to those being boom times for church going but a good deal was also due to the energy Dad put forth each and every week for the congregation. He and Mom both were much loved.

When was around 11 years old neighborhood friends Walter and Rodney and I for some reason went to watch a matinee play at the high school. There was hardly any one else in the auditorium so more n likely it was a dress rehearsal. We sat in the front row acting like the 3 stooges yukking it up doing what we could to annoy the performers. Some of them did get flustered and flubbed their lines. It didn't take long for us to get escorted out by security and marched over to a school officials office. After reading the riot act he then pointed his finger at me and said, " you of all people know better. I have a mind to tell your Dad what a disgrace you are to him.'

He then kicked us out and I spent the rest of the day worrying about what would happen when Dad got home. Mom dealt the punishment but on special occasions Dad would take off the belt. I honestly don't recall him ever belting me but did know such was something to avoid. During dinner he asked me how I liked the play which was a warning that danger may lie ahead. I said it was ok or something and that was that. No spanking or reprimand. I am pretty sure someone must told him but for some reason he decided to not make a big deal of it.

We moved to Des Moines when I was 13, and I never understood why but Paul says so that I could be in a better school system. I did have a difficult 7th grade year flunking math four terms in a row as well two terms of mechanical drawing. Got accused by the vice principal of cheating in Literature and History due to high marks in those subjects but an investigation determined had not. Dad believed I was telling the truth. So it could be that parents thought I needed a better school environment.

As a paperboy my first year in Des Moines one day had a brush up at the corner where two of us with routes got our paper bundles each day. Soon we were squaring off and a small crowd gathered around. The other guy set rules of no hitting in the face or wrestling and I had a hard time trying to box through his defenses. After awhile the fight got halted. As soon as got the paper route done headed to our detached garage to hide out, ashamed and angry that got beat.  Dad came over a bit later and asked how I was doing and was I alright. After his little talk he said things will be okay. He didn't say next time try an upper cut or why were you fighting or so on. What he did say though was perfect and true.

Learning to drive took me awhile. Took driver's education and did okay but on test day was nervous and didn't pass the license exam. So, Dad started having me drive a lot, including multi hour road trips to Missouri. On one trip to Paul's college his girlfriend at the time was along and she rode the whole way in abject terror, especially when Dad would say things like okay son next time leave more space between you and the semi when passing. On another trip at a road block I somehow managed to hit the driver side of a patrol vehicle's open door knocking it off its frame. Dad did not get mad but he did say the car insurance was going to go up.

He only played the preacher's kid card on me two times. One was as a 16 year old when played a lot of one on one basketball in the church parking lot with a street wise youth of about the same age. We hung out quite a bit and comments were made by a few  church parishioners. Dad never said stop but he did let me know people were watching. I really don't think he wanted to say anything about it but this was Des Moines 1966 and his church there had a lot of internal conflict pertaining to moving out of the part of the city we lived in. The issue resolved it self once school kicked in and my friend made the team.

The other time was after the 1970 move folks made from Iowa's largest city, Des Moines to Brooklyn, Iowa population 3000 or less. I got home from a first date with a local girl at 3:45 am on a Sunday morning. It was so late because it took forever for me to draw up the gumption for a goodnight kiss, and then the car got stuck on the ice, while trying to leave her farm. She had to come out to the drive way and instruct on how to get the vehicle unstuck. Upon getting up for church a few hours later  Dad said you got to remember you a preacher's kid. He never said any thing about that night or other nights again.  A few months later as a boarded a bus to get to a camp job for the summer he said oh to be young and in love. 

Dad loved being alive taking pleasure in so much. Whether it be during croquet knocking opponents balls out to the neither land, fishing for whatever would bite, swimming at the Y, playing volleyball, watching out for the rook card, catching the Celtics and so much more brought joyful moments. He loved people. No matter whether in the queue for Niagara's Lady of the Mist boat ride or at the post office he would strike up conversations with strangers. He also enjoyed conversations with Missouri relatives about the season's farm crops as well as the worthiness of all humans.

Our vacations as kids were special. On a 3 week trip from eastern Iowa throughout the west we averaged covering over 300 miles a day. And at the end of the da full of sightseeing if there was a miniature golf course or drive in movie theatre nearby we would hit that too. He taught us how to swim in the Ozarks, and survive in cold fresh water ponds. At Iowa's church camp one year while leading a devotional for our group one of the boys that was messing around in the attic fell through the ceiling and landed in front of us. We and Dad all laughed our teeth out. The same could be said for countless  breakfasts in Muscatine. Each day prior to scarfing down pancakes or eggs and bacon Dad would read the upper room devotional. More often than not us three boys would start laughing and occasionally even rolling on the floor. Dad did not mind one bit.

In the spring of 1974 Mom and Dad drove out to see me in Greeley Colorado where I was finishing up my rehabilitation counseling program that started after getting my Honorable Discharge. I looked like a bum but was so proud of them. Had them meet my favorite professor, a girl that hardly knew, and a nurse that worked with at the university clinic. Then drove them to Rocky Mountain National Park. We did the short hike around Bear Lake altitude 9.499 feet, during which Dad had to stop a couple of times to catch his breath. Then we went over Trail Ridge Road which soars to 12,183 feet to the other side and looped on over to Georgetown where spent the night. Dad and I floated at the hotel pool that evening surrounded by mountains and stars. It was the best night ever.

Six months later, he was gone. 

The earth gave way under my feet when got the news. Brooklyn's MD had that summer given him a clean bill of health. He participated in brother John and sister Diana's Hawaiian wedding and the day before he passed conducted the memorial service for his brother in laws wife. Congregation members from each of the 3 Iowa churches he served, and several Missouri relatives braved a severe November snow storm to attend his memorial. 

I had already completed comps and was nearing the end of internship at Denver's Fort Logan mental health hospital, so was cut loose from school. Over the next 3 months assisted Mom as she got ready to move from the parsonage back to Missouri. At one point Mom told me to go do what had planned to do prior to Dad's passing, which was move to Hawaii. So I did, arriving in the islands President's day weekend 1975.   

I was still suffering though. Got a job right away as a Liberty House Stock boy but it took 9 more months till landed with the State doing what was trained to do. The government's pre employment physical mental scale showed that I spiked for lingering depression. I was still having dreams that Dad was alive and welcomed sleep each night where would experience his hug, kiss on the cheek, his laugh. 

It took his passing for me to fully understand just what my Dad meant to so many people. He was there for them and they knew it. One of his letters he mentioned his stats for the week which included 35 home or hospital visits. Most of those consisted of much more than just hello or how or you. He would talk story, listen to, and pray with each person each visit. In addition to his calling was the work to deliver two sermons on Sundays and sometime three, plus mid week services, bible studies, and group chats.

I think that part of what drove Dad was that he knew he made a difference for people. That the sound of his voice, his presence was welcomed and lifted spirits. He brought them hope. Of course, Dad being the man of faith he was all the hope and yes joy he brought to others he attributed to such coming from God.

Now I am much older than Dad was when he died. I have not had near the impact for good he had but what bit of good have done is in large part attributed to what learned from him. Oh how I wish that Betty and our children and their spouses and their kids could have had the chance to know him. In some way though I think and hope they have.

The frequent dream visits I experienced with Dad went away many decades ago. The memories however, thank God, live on.

Breakfast fun 

Muscatine 1959 or so

Colorado visit spring 1974, 7 months no hair cut or bear trim since mustered out of the Army, Mom and Dad very happy and proud too despite my looking like a shaggy dog.

Josh Wendy wedding 2017 with Betty, sons daughters brothers nieces nephews

Mom Dad before kids

Dad and me 1952

Christmas 1973, Diana, me with a three month post army beard. Lani, Paul, John's portrait on the wall, Mom and Dad. The last holiday we were all together.