More Memories of a Goodwife.......



Wood heat and the smell of wood smoke brings back powerful memories for me.  They are wonderful, happy memories of my childhood and I treasure them. 

As some of you may know, my dad and I have a pretty volatile relationship.  We are both strong, passionate, intense people and that is like fire and gasoline.  I get to be fire cuz it smells better!  ;)

Anywho, for every volatile memory I have of my dad, I have two dozen wonderful ones.

Dad and I, just hangin' out. 1977

When I was a kid we only had a woodstove for heat.  We lived in an old double wide trailer and the stove was out on the porch.  There was a hole cut in the wall with a 2 foot pipe coming in and that is where the heat came out.  We'd get up in the morning and stand in front of the pipe to get dressed.  The door to the back porch was across the hall from my bedroom door and in the night I'd wake up to the distinctive "schhhrrrkk" of my dad tearing newspaper into strips cuz the stove had gone out.  I'd get up and go sit on the step with him while he got the stove going.  We'd talk about everything under the sun during those midnight hours and I treasure those times.  Dad never got tired of my questions, although he did and still does like to tease me about my never ceasing mouth.  He patiently answered everything my questing mind wanted to know.  I can't tell you how much he taught me.

I've also got some fond memories of cutting wood with Dad.  We always had good intentions of cutting during the early fall, but that just never seemed to happen.  He likes to tease The Paintiff and I now about our wood cutting adventures.  He says....."Well ya oughta be like me and wait until you are bustin' up the furniture before you go cut wood!"  That's not much of an exaggeration.  I've cut wood in some seriously nasty weather, me and Dad.  He'd build a fire so I could warm up between work and I remember he and I both sticking our boots right on the burning logs and watching our feet smoke. 

Wrestling baby!  We used to watch wrestling every Sunday on channel 11 and then we'd go have tag team wrestling on Mom and Dad's bed with Mom screetching in the background that we were going to break something.  Good times!!

Before he got hurt so badly, Dad was a diesel mechanic and diesel fuel reminds me instantly of my Daddy.  I love the smell of it.  He always wears Carhartt coats, the chore coat with the blanket lining and he'd wear them until they were rags.  They were inundated with his smell and when they were ragged and hanging off him, and he'd break down to buy a new one, I always cabbaged on to the old one. 

I was always under his feet, and if he was out the door, I was right behind him.  I'm closer to my dad than my sister is, and it's because of that.  He never favored one of us over the other, I was just always right there, wanting to be wherever he was and she wasn't like that.  My dad was and really still is my hero, even though he makes me 6 kinds of crazy a lot of the time.

My handsome Daddy and me on my wedding day, March 30, 1996

So many good memories of Daddy.  I'm thankful to have him and thankful that of all the people on earth, I'm most like him.  I've learned to be a better person through his faults and learned what honesty, integrity, morals, and values are because of him.  He taught me what is really important in life and that your word is your bond.  He taught me to be a good person and to do right by folks.  He also taught me my impressive cursing library, but I'm working on that!  ;0)


God Bless............