MY FATHERS BLOOD
I was thinking the other day about turning 75 this week. My father was 25 when I was born making his blood on this earth 100 years old. I was his first child, his first daughter and we had a special bond. He was a professional Boxer and ex-navy man. The fact that he was responsible for a new life weighed heavy on him. Mom said that after I came along he quit hanging out with his friends at the bar, and drinking every night.
He would tell her that the drinking kept the dreams of war at bay. Back in the 40s, they didn’t have ways to handle P.T.S.D. like they do today. But dad was determined to be a good father so he found other ways to cope. During his time in the Navy, he had been a boxer. He even qualified for the Olympics, but it was the year that America entered the war and did not go to the games. When he got out of the Navy he continued boxing and won the golden gloves champion award 5 years in a row. He had his training equipment in the barn and training helped him cope with the memories of Pearl Harbor and the South Pacific.
After the war with all the soldiers returning it was hard to find a place to live. We lived in a tiny travel trailer parked behind my Uncle Walt’s house. There wasn’t room for a crib so they would fix a bed on the table and surrounded me with pillows until I got big enough to roll over then my bed was in a dresser drawer, set on the floor next to their bed. Mom said dad took me with him wherever he went, when he wasn’t on his job, I was his constant companion.
The first real memories I have was when my second brother was born I was five and I can remember mom letting me feel the baby kick. I was only 13 months old when my first brother was born so I don’t remember him as a baby. It was strange and I didn’t understand how a baby could be in her stomach. She explained as best she could to a 5-year-old, mainly that I was going to have to help more, now that I had two little brothers. I found out later that mom had lost a baby between my two brothers so she had to be careful and rest a lot. We were living on a farm outside of town at that time. I started helping with chores, feeding the chickens and cows. I didn’t mind helping I got to be with dad a lot more.
I remember my bedroom was at the top of the stairs and it had a raised platform on one side of it. Dad put my bed up on the platform. He said all princesses had a bed higher than everyone else. My brother didn’t mind it because he could jump from it to the floor and have more fun than on his bed. I started school the year I turned 5, my birthday was at the end of July and school started on the first of August. Mom thought it was better for me to start early than to wait until I was 6. Dad would take me on the tractor across the fields to the schoolhouse. Even though most of the kids walked; he said I wasn’t old enough to walk to school alone. One time after a snow storm we got all the way to school to find it closed. We spent the morning taking kids back home that had walked in the snow. We went home hooked up the wagon, then loaded all the kids up and took them home. We didn’t have phones back then, just neighbors who were willing to do the right thing.
We were new to farming; dad had always wanted to be a farmer but hadn’t grown up on one. So everything was a new experience. In the early 50s money was tight for everyone after the rigors of wartime. I can remember dad selling his blood to pay bills. He would go from one hospital to another; I can remember him sleeping a whole afternoon once because he went so often that he got sick. That is when mom put a stop to it and said we could find other ways to get by.
That same year there was a huge Tornado that devastated the farming community we lived in. It crushed the barn that our cows were in and we lost most of the herd. Dad got caught putting his new tractor in the shed and had to ride out the storm under the tractor between the tires.
My brother and I watched mom trying to clean up the rain that was coming in around the door. She kept telling us to go down to the basement, but the lights had gone out and it was dark down there. My brother and I sat on the top step holding each other and watching mom.
We had so much damage that the insurance wasn’t enough to start over so we moved back to town. Dad bought a place that had a cinderblock garage on it that we lived in while he built us a house. He thought about going back to the navy but mom said she didn’t want to raise three kids on her own so he became part of the National Guard instead. He told us that our family had always served in the military and that it was our duty to protect the country. Even though my dad died of cancer when I was 14 he is still my hero and I thank God for the time I had with him.
I have been tracing my bloodline back through the centuries and have discovered many things that I feel have shaped the many aspects of my life. You would be surprised at how closely your life remains on the path of those who came before you. I have found that members of our family were warriors, soldiers, protectors of family and country as far back as recorded time. We have also taken care of those who have fought to keep our freedom, establishing hospitals and care facilities. We have been entrepreneurs, writers, storytellers, and leaders in our communities.
SO THINK ON THIS
On whatever path you set your foot; your bloodline walks with you, in whatever role you decide to live, your bloodline lives with you. However, you choose to live, make your father’s blood proud, even if you don’t think your earthly father was that great, or you didn’t know him very long, he still gave you his blood. Cherish it, honor it, and remember your heavenly father sent his blood to die for you; so you could walk your path.
If you don’t know about your heavenly father or would like to know more leave me a comment and I will get back to you.
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