By Colleen Pulley
One of the most important gifts I was given was the opportunity to have parents. Over the years I have come to appreciate that blessing of goodly parents. Most of us are raised by Mothers, good, bad, or indifferent. But to have a Father in your life from birth to adulthood is a real blessing. You know that your Dad is always there to help and guide you.
At some time, we all become angry about some discipline our Father has given us. The following story was passed on to me by my Mother, when I was about sixteen. I had just been grounded by my Dad for lying about where I had gone. I am relating it here because this month is Father=s Day. My Dad is not here to tell him Happy Father=s Day. Hopefully you will tell your Dad how much you love him.
My Mother wiped the tears from my eyes and told me this story. “My Dad found out from one of his secret sources, that I had lied to him, and gone to an un-chaperoned party. He presented himself at the house, filled with laughing teens having a good time. I had listened, pressed against the wall, as my Father yelled at the guys at the door. I understand my daughter, Lela Lorance, who just happens to be sixteen, is here. You jokers have about two minutes to produce her. If I have to come in to get her, I intend to break more than a few knee caps. He raised his voice a little louder and announced, you have about 15 minutes before the cops will be here.”
In two seconds flat I was grabbed away from the wall, hauled down the front steps, and handed to my scowling Dad. My Dad’s big hand clamped around my arm, and he marched me out to his car.
“Lela, if you ever do a stunt like that again, I do not care if you are twenty, I swear I will get a willow switch and tan your hide until you will not sit down for a month. Now, little Missy, you have just signed up to be your Grandpa Jonas’ personal caretaker for the next month.”
When we got home, I remember how I slammed the car door and ran up the steps two at a time. I was sure I had the meanest Dad in the world. I did not speak to him as he got me in the car the next morning and took me a mile away to my Aunt Amanda’s house. She had been widowed in her thirties, and had no children. When her Dad became senile, Amanda became his caretaker. This was a full-time job as Grandpa Jonas would regularly sneak out of the yard, and get himself lost.
Dad knocked at the door and there was his sister. If you ever saw Auntie Em, in the movie Wizard of Oz, you know what my Aunt Amanda looked like. “Mandy, Lela is here to help you take care of Dad. She will be staying here for the next month, so keep her busy.” With that he turned around, marched down the stairs, and left.
“Well Lela, whatever you did it must have been one hell of an incident. I haven’t seen my brother that mad since I tattled that he had shot out the living room window with his slingshot and broke Mother’s favorite flower vase. He got his backside warmed, and he almost killed me later.”
The month spent chasing down Grandpa Jonas, and keeping out of the way of his cane taught me not to try to get anything over on my Dad. It also turned out working with my Aunt Amanda let me get to know not only my Dad, but also my Grandpa.
My Grandpa fought in the Civil War. His Discharge papers say he fought at Antietam (MD), Shiloh (TN), Gettysburg (PA), and Fredericksburg (VA). He was wounded twice, and once when Aunt Amanda was helping him get on a clean shirt, she let me feel the jagged scar across his back.
Not long after the month with Aunt Amanda, I was sent home from school because my Dad had dropped dead from a heart attack. I wish I could have had him longer. I wish I would have told him thank you for making me take care of Grandpa. I wish I could have told him how much I loved him. But I am sure he knows that.
The memory of that story my Mother told to me, for some stupid action, reminded me that my own Dad loved me enough to ground me. He wanted the best for me, and I know that he loved me. I advise you to tell your Dad you love him often. Then write down all those precious moments and memories you have of your Father. Think of them, and when you are a parent, share them with your own children. If you do this, I promise they will enrich not only your life, but your children=s lives as well.
Happy Father’s day. Until later… Colleen
Key Words – goodly parents, discipline, Father’s Day, grandpa, dad loved me
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