Wonder how old Daddy was here?  Looked pretty snappy in that scarf. Then in 1960 in his work clothes.

 Daddy and Mommy at Thelma and Tommy’s wedding.

Can you believe Daddy would have been 91 years old today.  He was born June 23, 1918 and died  November 12, 1974.  Gee that means he was only 56 years old when he died.   That seems so young to me now that I am older. 

Wonder what he would have been like and what would he have thought about today’s “goings on”.   Although Daddy had his foibles, there could never be a more generous man.  I remember many occasions when he would take in another kid (usually a friend of one of his own kids), and let them stay as long as they needed.  He gave clothes and food to many strangers.  Lord knows, we were not the wealthy types – few were poorer, but it seems like we always had more than enough of everything we needed, so he was always willing to help somebody else.  I think that is why most of us are always a bit too willing to help each other even when we probably shouldn’t.

I vaguely remember living in Kentucky in a relatively nice size house with bedrooms and locking doors, etc.  That was in Paintsville, Kentucky.  I do remember Larry being born there.  Shirley and I were in a room next to where Mommy was giving birth, assisted by the midwife.  The door was locked, and we tried to peek through the keyhole, but couldn’t see a darn thing.  I think Daddy worked in a coal mine there.   I wish I knew more about that time frame.  I do recall taking naps in what I think was a large room with an A frame ceiling. 

I have some vague memories of our move from Kentucky to Fairborn, Ohio.  I seem to remember us older kids were in the back of a covered truck.  We stopped at some point and Daddy bought us some of those candy ice cream cones with the colored marshmallow tops.  I think I was about six years old.  I think we first moved into the middle cabin/house that Mr. Holton rented out. 

Then at some point, we moved to the 2nd cabin which was just a bit larger.  That is where Gary was born.  I can still remember him in the basinett with Josephine Cole there.  We were told Gary was a “blue baby”.

Then after a while we moved into the largest Holton property.  WOW – we had a large living/bedroom, a kitchen and a very small back bedroom.  I can still picture that house.  We had two full size beds in the living room along with a couch and a stove.  Maybe there were other pieces of furniture that I can’t remember.  By this time I must have been about 10 years old.  I remember holding Vickie as an infant on my chest as I laid on the couch.  Then I remember that tiny back bedroom being wall to wall beds at night.  Roll-away beds were a must. 

Bobby, Vickie, and Martha were born in that house. 

I remember that we usually had a boarder (an extra person who was supposed to pay for his keep) plus all those kids.

Anyway, Daddy worked in construction or some kind of outdoor work.  Mommy always packed lunches for Daddy and what ever boarder we had.  I do remember Mommy’s brother, Uncle Woodie, as one of our boarders.

That larger Holton house is the one in which we lived when Larry, Carolyn Brewer, and I were walking on a path near the rail road track to or from the Fairborn park.  (Everybody from Wrightview Heights walked that path.  We were grabbed by some man, but got a way.  One day that same man drove up in front of the house while I was out on the front step polishing some white shoes.  I nearly broke my neck getting in the house through that screen door.  When we told Daddy about the guy grabbing us, Daddy took out after that car, but the guy was gone and we never saw it or him again.  Daddy was so upset that we had not told him about that guy earlier. He was ready to fight for us.  Of course, I don’t appreciate fighting, but I knew he would have fought for us. 

He loved his kids no matter what.  And yes he believe in disciplining and whipping those who crossed him or did wrong.

My only recollection of getting a swat was when I found a quarter and Daddy asked me if I took it.  That hurt my feelings and I started to cry.  I cried easily in those days.  So Daddy said, “I’ll give you something to cry about and he whacked me on the but with his hand.”  Sure enough I had something to cry about – not a hurt rear end, but real hurt feelings.  That was my only memory of physical discipline.  However, the discipline came with a look or a word.  You just knew kids did not sass or talk back.  I think that bit of fear kept me from getting into trouble as a teenager.  I do appreciate the way I was raised, even though few people today believe in disciplining kids at all – thus kids are sassing parents and telling them what they can do, taking drugs, never happy and all that.  I was poor and disciplined with fear and so thankful for it.  Until the day our parents died, I always felt a deep sense of respect for them and could never imagine talking back or speak harshly to them even though sometimes I’m sure I wanted to – even as an adult, I would not. 

Sometimes when I go to the casino, I think to myself how much he would have enjoyed them.  He probably would have enjoyed those free drinks a little too much.  I know he would have liked the craps tables.  He used to roll the dice at home.

He used to enjoy those cigarettes with his coffee.  It is funny now, but I used to get so perturbed when Daddy would smoke and talk as he stood right beside the chair where I was curling Mommy’s hair.  It always burned my eyes and sometimes I would have to go outside to clear them.  In those days, no one thought of telling a parent anything like that.  Smoking was not a NO-NO and I would not want to hurt his feelings.

I remember waking up to Daddy whistling and/or singing to the radio tunes.  He loved Patsy Cline and that whole era of country singers.  Often he would break out in a tap dance.

I remember so much more, but I must get packed for the trip to Ohio for Marnee’s wedding, so I had better save the rest for later.

So Happy Birthday DADDY!

Your Oldest daughter, Myrtle