No, I am not "stepping out" on Ron. (Fans of "Serial" will no doubt automatically hear the voice of Christina Guittierez. For those folks who've never heard of "Serial," well, never mind).
The other man is, no surprise, my dad. Every time I see him, I notice him slipping a little further away, and I guess I'm desperately trying to sear my memories of him into my being. For me, that means I write.
Dad was born in 1928, just a few years before The Great Depression. The youngest of fourteen (no, that's not a typo), dad knew first-hand the struggles millions of people faced during those barren years. His dad was out of the picture by the time he was eight, so his mom took on the role of single parent,and, as far as I know, she never had a job! Dad's older brothers and sisters sent home money when they could, many of their jobs coming from various New Deal programs started by FDR.
Dad tells stories of putting cardboard in his shoes to patch the holes, of preaching to out-of-work men in the city park (a foreshadowing of a future career) and then passing a collection plate when he was done (one of his older brothers made him return every penny), of collecting boxes in exchange for a few pennies. I love these stories and never tire of hearing them...they add a depth and richness to my dad's character.
By 1950, he had graduated from college, gotten married to my mom and was ordained as a minister in the Disciples of Christ church. Upon graduating seminary (I'm not sure why he was ordained before seminary; I asked him about that and he didn't know either...) he was hired as the pastor of the First Christian Church in Fayetteville, Arkansas. And he was almost fired because he extended membership to an African American woman. This was in the mid-1950's, not long before the desegregation in Little Rock. Even in his twenties he was meting out the principles that would shape his beliefs for the rest of his life.
By the time I arrived mom and dad had moved to Marshall, my own personal version of "The Wonder Years." I remember, as a little girl, singing the old hymn "This Is My Father's World" and thinking I was singing about my dad. He was, after all, the guy in the black robe up front that everyone was listening to.
About that same time, I remember being terrified of robbers. One of my classmates, during Show and Tell, related that the town bowling alley had been robbed. Not long after that, we went to Silver Dollar City and during a train ride, masked men boarded the tram and "held up" passengers. I began having night terrors, wouldn't sleep alone etc. I remember my dad taking me on walks through our neighborhood at night, me in my pjs, trying to show me that there wasn't anything to be afraid of. Afterwards we'd have orange juice, a real treat...until my mom suggested that he was making it too much fun!
Eventually the trauma subsided, but I'll never forget those late night travels with my dad and the patience and concern he showed.
In the mid-1960's, dad decided to pursue a new career in politics and ran for State Representative. Eventually, he went back to school to get his Masters and PhD in political science. He then served eight year as Missouri's State Treasurer and ran for Governor in 1980, the only election he ever lost. He was the president of two colleges and worked as the head of the Disciples of Christ's Division of Higher Education before retiring. I know I'm biased, but that's quite an impressive resume!
Throughout his life, my dad has remained true to his humble beginnings, always teaching me to be patient, kind and honest.
I'm still learning. And I still have a great teacher.
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