Happy Father’s Day to all of you – those who are dads and those of us who have dads. There’s nothing like a dad, but it’s also true that our dads weren’t always dads. They used to be boys and then young men looking to the future, trying out their wings, finding their independence. This picture is my dad on his motorcycle long before he became my dad. The year was about 1932 and he was getting ready to take off across America all the way to Oregon.
What a way to see the country! What a way to say I’m ready to be on my own now. His mother wasn’t happy with him. I’ve never heard anybody say what his father thought. Maybe that he wouldn’t make it. That he’d turn around and come home before he got a hundred miles down the road. Or maybe he was proud of him for wanting to do something a little daring. Or he might have been worried that his only son might never come back to Kentucky to take over the farm. Luckily for me, Dad did come home and some eight of nine years later, did meet my mom.
But that trip was Dad saying I’m old enough now to do what I want. His mother wasn’t happy about it, but he went anyway. All the way across country on a motorcycle. I’ve always thought I got my grab hold of a dream or goal and keep on keeping on spirit from my mom, a very determined woman. But now that I think about my dad and this trip, I’m seeing he had plenty of that perseverance and focus too. He wanted to go, so he did. And all his life, it was something he looked back on with pleasure and pride. Riding by the Grand Canyon. Nearly running out of water in the desert. Eating nothing but cantalope for a couple of days because someone was selling them cheap by the side of the road. So many adventures.
I look at the young man in the photo above, ready for a challenge. That was before I or my older sisters were even a thought he might imagine. He was young, footloose and fancy free and he took advantage of that.
Years later when he lacked a few years of being forty, I came into his life. His last child after two other daughters. The one that should have been a boy, but wasn’t.
I remember Dad’s motorcycle. It sat in the corner of the garage for all my childhood years. Dad didn’t ride it. I think it needed repair. But he kept it for many years. A symbol of freedom. Of independence. He finally sold it and I think regretted the sale almost immediately.
I can’t imagine what Dad might have felt as he revved up that motorcycle and took off up the hill away from his father’s farm to head by himself over 2,000 miles to Oregon. And that was in 1932 when roads weren’t the best. Dad had probably never gone farther from home than Louisville (about 60 miles from here) but he shut his ears to his mother’s pleading for him to give up such a crazy idea and stay home. My mother remembers Dad saying his mother even offered to give him money she’d had hidden away for a rainy day if he would stay home. But Dad choose the excitement of the trip west instead. He left behind the familiar and kept riding. He had relatives who had left Kentucky some years before this and settled in Oregon. He spent the summer working on their farm, but first he had to get there, riding by himself across country.
Now I wish I had listened to more of Dad’s stories about the places he went on that motorcycle. I wish I knew the Dad before there was me. That makes me sometimes wonder if my children ever think about the girl I was before I was a mom. I think that’s sort of what we all want – for our loved ones to see us as we see ourselves. Unique and our own person, kind of the way we can be sure the Lord sees us.
In my stories, I have to think about my characters that way. I need to see each of them as a one of a kind person and think about how they were before my story and consider what might have happened to them after my story to make them real for readers. If I “know” them well, I can make them come to life in the words of my books.
Some of those characters are fathers. David in the Heart of Hollyhill books was the kind of dad any kid would want. Victor in Angel Sister had some struggles, but he did loved his girls and yearned to be better father in spite of his flaws. Some of my fictional fathers only make appearances in my main characters’ memories. A father is so important in the life of a child. And a child is blessed when they have a father who loves them.
My dad wasn’t perfect. Then who among us is? But he was a good dad. I like thinking about him as a young man, surprising the people who knew him by buying a motorcycle and heading west. It could be he surprised himself most of all. It could be becoming a dad surprised him too as all of us can be surprised, in a way, about how life changes when we have children. But he never forgot his Oregon adventure and years later when I was almost six, he packed us into a green Studebaker car and retraced his trip to Oregon with family in tow.
“My father didn’t do anything unusual. He only did what dads are supposed to do: be there.” ~Max Lucado
Hope you had a good dad who made your life richer and better.
What’s one of your favorite things or memories about your dad?
(This is an edited copy of a post from 2011. As I was considering what to write about Father’s Day, I looked back at what I’d done in years past and loved, once again, thinking about my dad before he was a dad. Hope you enjoy reading about him.)
Comments 11
My dad was a pk. He has some fun stories he likes to tell us kids and of course our ears perk up when he starts. He liked Roy Rogers. Had his own cowboy hat and the jeans with the snap up cowboy shirt to go along with his ensemble. He also rode a motorcycle. He put in me an enjoyment of watching westerns on tv (his baby brother did the rodeo riding circuit.).I can still remember one time I had forgotten my lunch at home and my dad came up to the school to bring it to me. I was called to the principals office where dad was there waiting for me. Then he walked me back to my classroom. I was so proud holding my handsome dad’s hand. I loved the idea of showing him off to all the kids in class. Dad married young and then was called up for military duty.
Author
Sweet memories, Shari. So good that you were proud of your dad and wanted your classmates to see him.
My dad didn’t get married until he was 28. He was almost ten years older than my mom. He never served in the military. When WW II came, he was exempted because he was a farmer. The country needed farmers to keep growing food crops.
Thanks for sharing about your dad. Loved reading your memories.
My Dad was a war veteran. He also loved playing baseball. I was told that he was a very good pitcher and had a chance to go on the road playing for a team, but he also wanted to get married and have a family with my mom. Mom won out!
Author
Glad your mom won out so that you got to come along, Connie. My dad loved to pitch horseshoes. He played in tournaments when he got older, but by then he wasn’t quite as good as when he was younger. He would pitch horseshoes every afternoon after he came in from work.
I hope you got to have fun watching your dad play baseball or maybe playing with him on a team.
This isn’t about my dad, but my husband and his dad. About a month before his dad died he sold his 1938 Chevy truck for 1.00,to my husband, he restored it and we had fun in it for a few years and then he decided to sell it for 50.00. The day it left our driveway he regretted what he had done. Later we heard it was used in a Demolition Derby, how sad , wish we had never heard that story. But I still have pictures and memories of the old 1938 Chevy,
The things we think are a good idea at that moment, only to say later, what WAS I thinking??!!
Author
I can see why your husband had a change of heart after it was too late, Donna Jean. But he probably thought he had a good reason for selling it.
I’m glad you still have pictures and good memories. A demolition derby seems a bad way to use such an antique truck, but people don’t always have the same feelings about things. One thing about my dad selling his motorcycle eventually is that he sold it to a man who loved it as much as dad. He restored it and kept it in a place of honor. Even so, I think Dad wished he hadn’t sold it.
I get such a “burning in my heart” when I read your words/thoughts/stories. Our hearts beat in step with each other, though I know you only from afar. How blessed I am to know you. I loved your memory of your Dad. Oddly, though my Dad did it in the 1940’s, he took a trip to OR also, on his own, driving his new car, and he didn’t sleep until he got there. No kidding. Drove the whole way — I forgot how many hours from MI to OR. I wish I had paid closer attention to his stories!! What you say about each of us wanting to be known and loved for who we are really touched me. The Lord, He is the only One who does, and it reminds me of how favored we are to have him as our Lord. Thanks for nice thoughts on a Monday morning!
Author
What a nice thing to tell me, Amy. I love making friend via the internet and whether we have as yet not met face to face, we can still get to know each other. And how neat that your dad made a trip to Oregon too. That was a few hours without sleeping. I think Dad took a bedroll with him and just slept out under the stars when he went. I’m like you. I wish I could ask him more about it now. I think he told my husband more stories about his trip than he ever told me. They worked out in the field together when we first got married so that had some time to share stories.
For sure, the Lord does know us and love us for who we are
That is such a cool photo of your Dad when he was young and fancy free! Terrific story too. I have a couple of photos of my Dad shortly before he and my Mom were married. My older sister may have more photos, I am not sure. She does not speak to me as she does not approve of my church, the ELCA. She is a troubled person. My Dad was 42 when I came along, Mom was 43. I was also the youngest, my brother was 18 (and in the Marines) and my sister 9. My parents were not really well suited, I think. My Dad got TB when I was around 6. I remember going to the hospital and he would wave from the window. His health was not good due to Alcoholism, Diabetes and “Hardening of the Arteries”. He was self employed in refrigeration for a time and I used to go with him on his rounds. Unfortunately it was mostly taverns. My Dad was not the disciplinarian in the family. If I drew a picture, it was the best picture ever! His mind suffered from his ailments and he took his own life when I was 9. It is hard to remember a lot about him since it has been 67 years since his death.
Author
Suicide is such a hard death on those left behind, Marjorie, but it sounds as if your father had many health issues. It also sounds as if he loved you and thought you were the greatest. You were the baby of the family. So was I, but there were only not quite 2 years difference between me and my next oldest sister.
I’m glad you liked Dad’s picture and story.