I have always said that if Daddy was a stone and you threw him in the pond of life, there would be no ripples. As I have aged, and in large part because of writing this paper, that rather harsh judgement has softened a lot. I have grown to understand his lonely growing up years and how theyshaped his adulthood.
He was born in Utah during the days when polygamy was legal, to a father with seven wives. His mother was the last and favorite so when Utah became a state and polygamy was declared illegal, she was the one that his father, Lycurgus, kept. I don’t know what happened to the others. I haven’t heard many good things about my grandfather as my mother despised him and kept away from him and in factshe felt that way about his whole family. They were a harsh bunch; the men were gruff and scary as I remember. However, those adjectives didn’t apply to my father, as a gentler, kinder man thanhe is hard to imagine.
He was the youngest of 10 and his mother, Melissa, died when he was very young and what his growing up years were like has been lost to memory. I have heard some vague things about him being a shepherd and being alone on the hills with the sheep.My cousin Barbara,one of thefamily historians, doesn’t know who raised him or how he grew up. It is my great regret that I didn’t ever ask him about his past, and he was never one to talk about himself. Mormon genealogy tells me who my ancestors are from generations ago but doesn’t tell their personal stories.
My experience of my parents’ marriage was that he adored mother but she did not return the sentiment. I found out much later in my life that they had to marry because I was on the way and as my cousin said, “Well, that explains things” when I had asked her if she knew. Evidently no one knew that little fact and it did explain my mother’s evasiveness when asked about their anniversary.
Mother was not a warm person, very unsatisfied with the life she lived and always thought she would have been better suited to a much grander life-style than my simple father provided. Daddy, on the other hand, always looked at mother with adoration.I’m thinkingas I write, that we were the first ever home and family he ever had and he was content.
I have of him holding me as a baby, but for many of my very young years he was overseas where he could earn more money than here.Perhaps it had something to do with him being in the Navy, but I remember him coming home. He brought me 3 outfits, all different sizes, so he would be sure to get at least one right. They were beautiful silk kimonos and one silk pajama outfit, which was way too little, but I have all three to this day. He brought Japanese dolls all dressed in beautiful silks that I also have, as they were too delicate to play with, and I never liked to play with dolls anyway.
When Daddy came home, life went from black and white to vivid color for me. I only realize that as I write this. I went from being ignored to cared for, from never being touched to getting petted whenever I wanted. He always let me sit on his lap and he was the one who nursed me when I was sick and patted me all the time. It was a dismal day when he told me I was now too big a girl for him to lift. I was devastated for days but his lap still belonged to me, as did his hugs and his pats. Sometimes saidpats would get annoying, as they seemed to be his only way to express his affection, and words were difficult for him.
One day there was a conversation between mother and Daddy about someone who was in love. I must have said something because he said to me, “You do know that we love you, don’t you?” and I said, “No”. No one had ever said that to me. That’s just the way it was in our house and I didn’t think about it one way or another.However, soon after that it was my birthday, and I was asked something I had never been asked before. Daddy asked me “what do you want?” I haven’t told you about his ability to build most anything, block walls, patios and patio covers, cradles and fishponds. He let me “help” him, he could always find a job I could do so I could say that I helped. My birthday request was for jump ropes because double dutchjumprope was all we played. So my father went to the builders supply store and bought heavy duty rope. He bound the ends with tape and I had the best jumpropes in town! I had been asked about what I wanted which made me feel seen and heard and ever so grateful to my dear father for the question.
I love sweet peas – they are one of my favorite flowers.One of the reasons is because each year my father found some unique way to grow them. Two of the best ways that stand out to me were, first he cut down an old tree in our backyard and left a rather tall stump. He built a box perhaps 6 feet long and placed it on the stump and planted the sweet peas in it. That year, we had cascades of colorful, so fragrant sweet peas making one think of a fairy waterfall. The second way was to dig out a large circle of grass and install 8 foot tall fencing inside the circle and again plant the sweet peas. Once again we had a magical display all through the spring. He loved to take my aunts and mother’s friends into his garden and brag on his pansies and snapdragons and whatever else he grew.
My father never argued- he just went ahead in his own quiet way and did whatever it was he wanted to do. A good example. We had an incinerator in our Glendale backyard where we always burned our trash. A law was passed against doing that, but Daddy knew better and burned our trash anyway.The last trash burning produced a particularly large, black cloud and the fire department appeared in our yard and forbid him to ever do that again. As I think about it, that’s the way I operate much of the time, as does my eldest son and his eldest son.
As I have written about my father. I realize I see him in a new light altogether. I had judged him to be an ineffective person without any opinions or backbone. I see him as a gentle man largely orphaned as a child who grew up without much love or guidance. My experience of him was that he gave as fully as he could out of his emptiness. I was up until now, an ungrateful recipient of his love.
He was around 5’11” with straight brown hair that was always falling in front ofhis warm, brown eyes. He had unremarkable features except for the peace always on his face with his half-smile that was so reassuring. His two remarkable features were his hands and feet which were beautiful – and I inherited them.
Lastly,I have always loved watering my yard by hand and especially in the gloaming when the day is melting into the night and the fragrancesand the awakening night creatures are beginning their chorus. Thenight air feels so refreshing on your skin and the water on the grass releases a fragrance like no other. As I have written this paper, I realize that this pleasure comes from doing just that with Daddy when I was young. We lived on Davis Street in Glendale.Daddy loved to be out in that twilight time where the noise of the day was quitening.The waning day was segueing intoevening and my Daddy would water our yard with his garden hoseand I wasalways welcome to be with him. I loved experiencing the peace he provided just with his quiet, unobtrusive way of being.
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