My father was such an astute individual. He was born in west Texas in 1895, can you believe? He was nearing 50 years old when I was born. I was his first child, and my younger sister, his second and last. He never married until he met his one and only love, my mother. They were older parents, she 35 and he 48, and it was a love affair. They met on a double date and never looked back. They married three years later.
They were wonderful parents. Mother was always active in PTA and the Baptist church. Daddy worked and worked hard. While Mother cooked, cleaned, and did laundry, Daddy worked from 8 in the morning until 7 at night, hard physical labor. Even so, in retrospect, both my sister and I agree that it was Daddy who taught us Mother Goose Rhymes; he loved “Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater…” as well as all the others. Mother read to us and played word games, but Daddy, as physically tired as he was, taught us Mother Goose and would take us to the farm to go exploring every Sunday afternoon.
We were a very close family and we frequently had large family parties for every birthday and every holiday. We talked about everything in these large gatherings. I still remember as a second grader lecturing my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins on how Mr. Eisenhower, a Republican, was the better choice for President over Adlai Stevenson, a Democrat. I mean after all, he was so much better looking! I still remember my uncle, clearing his throat quietly and saying to me, “Anne, our family is Democrat!” Boy, that taught me!
My family still talks politics at every family gathering. Wow! It is so interesting to see what you can learn in these family discussions! Wouldn’t that be something if more families discussed and learned from one another? Even when there is disagreement, there is still love! We agree to disagree, then get over it! The young could learn from the old, and the old could learn from the young. There is wisdom from both groups.
Daddy was not a big talker; he listened. He faithfully read the local paper and the Fort Worth Star Telegram each day and every Life Magazine from cover to cover. A fan of Walter Cronkite, my father finished 7th grade and then went to work on the trains as a call boy. For his time, he was extremely well read and well traveled. He was from a railroad family and had railroad passes to travel the United States, which he and his family all did before World Wars I and II. How times have changed!
Today, Daddy would be called an entrepreneur, but when I was a child, he was just a gas station owner. I never recognized his constant investing and purchasing of real estate. I never understood the value of his farms and his push to always save to buy. To me, as the insecure acne-scarred teenager, he was just a blue-collared worker. How wrong I was! But that is another story for another day.
Daddy was fond of many, many sayings which I still take to heart. Today, we call these sayings trite, but they are truisms for a reason. There is truth in every word. One he frequently said was “all that glitters is not gold.” I think of that saying a lot when I consider New York City’s Trump Tower and the Trump throne found in the penthouse bathroom. Ah me!
My father also always said “never cry over spilled milk.” I don’t. When something is over, it is over! When I break a dish, I yell at myself, then sweep it up and forget about it. When I get a ding in my car, I grieve briefly and then get over it. When a new president is elected, whether of my persuasion or another, I accept it. Wish this country did! It is time to move on!