My Dad… He didn't have any money, but he was the richest man I knew.
He only told me once, when we were both drunk on the dairy farm on some wine we found in an old shed, that 'he loved me'. But I knew every day that he did. It didn't need to be said.
He gave us the spirit of Freedom, to work on our own, to not be tied to a time clock.
"Comes the Revolution", he would always say. I never knew for sure what he meant.
He loved cats and dogs. He knew they gave him a peek into Heavens' Windows.
I remember: the ice cream at the Steerhead Café, the many times we all went to the Drive-In, the trips to the beach, crossing the river on the Ferry, dynamiting stumps, 4th of July fireworks, cleaning lumber from the Vanport Flood, all the houses he built himself, building the new house that burned, and the dreams he had for it.
At our Pet Shop, he would show up to have coffee and donuts at Trapps' Bakery with me. This is how I knew he loved me. He didn't have to say it.
Working in the fields on my farm, looking toward the highway and seeing his El Camino coming unexpectedly down the driveway, was a day-brightener.
Dad's pace in life was slow and if you wanted to join him, you had to slow down, too.
The one vehicle that meant the most to him - his El Camino, that burned-up in the fire.
He was always ready to argue. If you weren't argumentative, you didn't mention - Religion, Cars, or Politics. These subjects would set him off in a second, proving he was a Christian, a Democrat, a Chevrolet person. He was always 'upset' if one of us would show up in a 'Foreign Car'.
He was proud of his property, that it was an Oasis among the spreading urbanites.
Even though his eyesight was failing, he still enjoyed going with me on Service Calls and Installations. He would remember details about each trip that I had forgotten.
He wasn't much for travel and was always reluctant to go on any 'long distance' trip. If you were successful in getting him to travel, he griped all the time. "Here comes the Judge", I would often hear as we sped to a distant place. One time we took him to Reno on my Daughters' Birthday Trip. I don't think he gambled $10.00, but I know he enjoyed being with us. I think everything he enjoyed most was right at home. One time he did ask me to take him to Idaho, to pick up Gary, because he couldn't stop worrying about him.
I think what bothered him the most was losing his eyesight. For a man who worked with his hands, this was unusually cruel.
Boy, did he like Nuts! I think he preferred a big bag of Peanuts to a $50.00 sweater.
I don't think money was very important to him. If he had $20.00 in his wallet, he felt 'Rich'. He could have sold his property at any time and lived 'well' off the proceeds. But his life was in the property, and in that, he was Rich.
He had a friend named 'Mac' on Taylors Ferry Road, and I remember standing with him for over 2 hours, watching our first Television programs. It wasn't long after, that he bought a TV, starting me on a Long Journey to where I am now.
The Tobacco Industry took his sight, his lungs, and then his life.
The realization that I may never see him again is unbearable. Then I remember that he is waiting for all of us to join him and that he is with us in God, every day. He can see again, he has no pain, and he can watch over all his family. It is comforting to know he is with his life-long friends again, Grandpa and Grandma Gates, Uncle Joe, Grandpa and Grandma Junkin, Lib, Roy Mack, and all his friends that went before him.
He said he was not a religious person, but as I will always have a place in my heart for him, I know God has a place for him, also.