Part 4, the final post of, my father's story

This is the final post of my father's story. I'll wrap it up by giving you the basic points that I wanted to convey about my Dad and some of the reasons why I love and respect him so much. Basically, what I wanted to share is that he came from nothing...and yet he rose above it and prevailed. He was a successful contractor for 40 years, owned his own business since he was a young man, got married, is still married to the same woman for over 50 years, had six children, raised us right, excelled in most everything he did, received trophies for competition for figure skating (roller skating), trophies for competition in flying model airplanes, and many trophies for competition for racing snowmobiles on water (yes...on water...you strip the snowmobile down to bare bones and basically ride across the water...known as watercross) He is a success. He has enjoyed many hobbies including model trains, model airplanes, dirt bikes, snowmobiling, fishing, water skiing, and scuba diving.



Also, I want to say that my father can build anything. He spent a lifetime building room additions and remodeling for people...everything from roofs to patios, decks, garages. He does electrical, plumbing...you name it..everything has been self taught.

Of course my father is not perfect, I don't claim him to be, nor would he claim himself to be. Doesn't matter though, I have learned so much from him. What's amazing to me is his advice has always been "spot on". I feel like I can hear him in my head saying "you don't do that, that's not right" or "that's what you do, it's the right thing"

and...

1) If you can't pay cash for it, then you don't buy it.
2) You don't go into a bar, you go into a bar, you're looking for trouble.
3) You don't ever pick up a gun, you pick up a gun, you better be prepared to use it.
4) Don't ever loan anyone money, you give it to them. If you can't afford to give it to them, then you don't do it.
5) You got homework? (I would tell my Dad "no") You got straight A's? (I would then say "no") Then you got homework.
6) The party's over. (That could pertain to many things..playing music too loud, bad grades, friends are over and it's late and past the time they should be there, haven't been doing chores like you should...and so on and so on)
7) Whatever you need or whatever you want, tell me, I'll buy it for you, but you don't get an allowance. You get an allowance, then you buy things you shouldn't be buying...cigarettes, booze. (he says this as a generalization, not meaning that I was doing that, just meaning that teenagers can do things they shouldn't do..and he's right)
8) Once you're out, you're out. (That means, once you move out, that's it, you're out, you don't come back, you make it, there's no other option, you can do it, you're grown, you do it...and I have to say, all 6 of us kids heard that since we were little, it was understood, it didn't bother us, we grew up, some went to college, one went to military, couple of us moved out and starting working, whatever, but not a one of us ever had to move back home because we couldn't make it on our own. Also, I might add, my father has always generously helped every one of us with money whenever we really needed it to pay bills, or a down payment for a house, whatever it was. He is very helpful and very generous and jumps at the chance to go to any of our houses to help remodel, reconstruct, new bathroom, new kitchen, new floor, vinyl siding etc. For the kids that went to college, he paid for college 100%, for the kids that didn't go to college, he bought them a brand new car 100% paid for. But.....Once you're out, you're out. It's simple. It it's not mean, I think it's a good thing. It really never was a question for us kids. You grew up, you moved out, you did what you did, and you made it...sometimes with a little help from Dad!
9) That's a bunch of happy horse shit. (That means something is not the way it seems, or blown out of proportion, or basically, a bunch of baloney! )
10) You do a good job because you are supposed to do a good job, not so you can get a pat on the back.

Really, he has lived a pretty good, full life. These days, he has slowed down. He has gone snowmobiling in Montana in recent years past...just not riding hundreds of miles a day..no cannot do that anymore...he has a bad back and has had both hips replace, has arthritis and osteoporosis.

Now he spends his time tinkering with Lionel trains and building and flying model airplanes. He bakes chocolate chip cookies and cakes as well as roast beef and a few other choice meals. My Mom has stopped cooking...I think she has had her fill.

And so, that's my Dad. He is retired now and lives in the country with my Mom. I invite them to my house for Thanksgiving dinner and Easter dinner. My Dad comes to visit now and then in between the holidays. He's trying to get my boys interested in flying model airplanes.



Thanks Dad, you've been a good Dad. I would not trade you for all the chocolate in the world. I'm glad God gave me you to be my Dad.

Part 3, my father's story

As far as school went...my Dad completed the 9th grade, started the 10th grade and then dropped out of school. After dropping out of school he worked a few different jobs. Finally, one of the jobs he took worked out very well for him. He worked for a contractor who did aluminum siding. He started out earning $2.00 an hour. He and another guy worked for the contractor for 5 years until they both decided to go into business for themselves. Ok, finally....steady work...and making good money.

OK...Let's side step here for a moment and talk about something really fun!!! I know you're gonna like it...I can't help but like it! When my Dad was a young man, he spent a lot of time at the skating rink. He learned how to figure skate! He was good...like really good! Just like those figure skaters you see on TV. You're not going to believe this...but my Dad was so good...he ended up competing!









He competed at several rinks, depending on where the competitions were. These photos are priceless!! How do you like these costumes?!!

And then.....!
Enter stage right....my Mom!!!



Probably the cutest little thing on skates in the whole county. My Mom would always watch my Dad skate and thought he was so handsome. My Dad recalls the day he met my Mom. She and another girl came up to my Dad out on the floor. The one girl knew my Dad already and said "Hey, my friend here wants to know if you'll teach her how to do a "3 turn". He said "ya sure".



As he tells me the story the other night..this is how he talks, he says "I takes her by the hand". Instead of saying 'I took her by the hand'...he says "I takes her by the hand and proceed to show her how to do a 3 turn. Well, she's giggling and laughing and messing around. I told her, no, you're not being serious here, so no, I'm not going to show you if you're just gonna giggle and carry on." So he just left her there on the floor and skated away. As you can see, my Dad was serious about his skating. I asked my Dad, "Well, did you think she was pretty or cute?" He says "Oh ya...she was sharp...she was definitely...right there." And so, from then on they saw each other all the time at the skating rink and were together ever since.

My dad asked my Mom to marry him. She said yes.



He told me he asked her father for permission to marry her. He said yes. Here's the part I like...he said "her Dad had to sign for her because she was only 20." He said back then, if you were under 21, you had to have a parent sign for you.

They moved into their first apartment. My Dad's Grandmother moved in with them. They began building a family...the first 2 children were born...they bought their first house...then next 2 children were born. My Dad's Grandmother lived with them until it was no longer possible for them to care for her. They moved her into a place called Heart Home for the elderly, and eventually she went into the hospital where she passed away at age 89 or 90. He doesn't remember her exact age, but she sure did live a long time. I'm glad she got to see her grandson have a family and get to see some of her great grandchildren. I just remembered...they used to call her "Mum". That's what my Dad called her and my Mom did as well.

Like any young couple, in the beginning, money was tight, but eventually, years later, my Dad's business was doing well. He bought one acre of land in the suburbs northwest of Pittsburgh. He began building his dream home with his own two hands. With the house complete, they sold their house in Pittsburgh to my Mom's parents (my Grandparents) and moved into their new home. Then...guess who was born next? Me! Yes, I was child number 5, born in July of 1970. That's me there in the stroller, and those are my brothers and sisters.



The first 4 children were born consecutively...then there was an 8 year span of before I was born. Three and a half years later, my little sister was born. And then....they were done...she was the last born...the baby...(little brat! Ha Ha! Just kidding!)

I've got a few more things I'd like to share with you about my Dad. I will save it for Part 4, the final post...not the final chapter...he's still alive and well. He's 75 and is very much into building and flying model airplanes. He even joined a club last summer. He calls them "a bunch of old guys".

End of part 3...stay tuned for the final post of my father's story

Part 2, my father's story

Before writing part 2 of this story, I called my father to get more details about his time in the orphanage. What I thought was going to be an informational and interesting conversation turned out to be so much more...more than I had anticipated. My Dad opened up about his father. You have to understand, this is a big deal being as I am 40 years old and this is the first time in my life that my Dad has spoken a word about his father! It is true that my Dad's father never had him or raised him a day in his life. However, I about fell on the floor when my Dad told me he saw his father once or twice a year until he was 6 years old. When he was 6, his father moved out of state and that was the last time he ever seen or heard from him. I had no idea! I grew up thinking my Dad never met his father. The visits he had with him were not heart warming or special. My Dad did share some details that just broke my heart! I asked if he remembered what his father looked like and he said "no, nothing". I just wanted to clear up, and amend what I wrote about his father leaving at the time of his birth.

And so...picking up where I left off...my father was shipped off to Hershey Orphanage for boys. He said he really cannot remember the details of how he got there but, he thinks his uncle may have drove him. An interesting detail...my Dad was 13, about to turn 14 in one or two weeks...once a child turned 14, they could not get into the orphanage...my dad got in just under the wire. Once a child got into the home, they could stay there until they graduated high school. At that time, they were given a brand new suit and $100 dollars.

The orphanage at Hershey was started by Milton S. Hershey in 1909. We are all familiar with Hershey chocolate, and this is the Hershey I am talking about. Milton Hershey and his wife Catherine were not able to have children of their own, so they started a school and orphanage for boys.

Here is a picture of the original homestead that housed the first orphans. Later there was a whole building and school for the orphans. My father did not come to this school until 1949. I have searched the internet for old photos of the orphanage or school and cannot find any photos from back then. The school is still there today and helps underprivileged boys and girls get a good education. It is no longer an orphanage.

The orphanage was on a dairy farm and daily life included chores. The children woke early every day at 5 am and worked the farm before school.



They milked the cows and cleaned out the barn before they even had breakfast. After breakfast they would clean up, change clothes and go to school. As soon as they came home from school, they returned to the barn to milk the cows again. At last after milking and other chores they went in to eat dinner. After dinner they had one hour to do their homework, and then would have an hour of free time to themselves to do what they wanted. Bedtime followed free time and then it would start all over again in the morning. It was a very structured life. Everything was scheduled by time.

On Sundays, the orphans children rode a school bus into town and were permitted to wander around for one hour. They each received an allowance of 40 cents per week, and were able to spend their money as the wanted. My father told me, "you know, you could get an ice cream cone or whatever." I can only imagine how much that time meant to them. Can you imagine, 40 cents and 1 hour of free time? It's definitely a strict life and I wish that kids today would have such an experience.

When I think about the over abundance children today receive compared to what children received back then...it is no wonder this generation feels entitled to everything! It's really astounding when you really think about it! Older generations are more thrifty and conservative...they save everything and make the most of everything they have. It's the more recent generations that have dumped every possession they have into the landfills because they were just bored with it, or it wasn't the right color, or they just deserved a new one. As I write this, I am incredibly humbled and ashamed. Even now, I am learning from my Dad.

My Dad did not like living at the orphanage at all. He said he felt very lonely. It was hard work, but it was honest work, and they were compensated for their labor with a roof over their head, food, an allowance and an education. He never said he was mistreated there, just that he did not like it...and I can undertand! My father was there for about three or four months before his Grandmother sent him money for a train ticket back to Pittsburgh. He took his money and ran away! He did not tell anyone he was leaving! He stole away to the train station, and for $5.24 he bought a one way ticket to Pittsburgh. re-creation--not actual ticket

From the train station in Pittsburgh, he proceeded to take a street car (trolley) the rest of the way home. The street car cost 10 cents to ride, and you paid when you got off. All my father had left in his pocket was a penny! But here's the best part...it was an old silver penny! He was hoping to pass off the silver penny as a dime because that's all he had! When the street car stopped, he put the silver penny in the machine and ran like the wind! He doesn't know if it worked, and he didn't stick around to find out. He just laughs when he tells this story, and I love it!



Anyhow, the orphanage did call the next day to say that he was gone. His Grandmother informed them he would not be coming back. My father told me they didn't have a phone until he was 17 years old, so I am assuming the call must have been made to his uncle's home.

At this time, my father went back to school and life continued on as usual. Living on welfare, my Dad's grandmother received only $30 dollars a month to live on. In my Dad words, "We had zero...nothing". He remembers going to the welfare office for his clothes. He would go up to the counter and they would hand him 2 pair of pants, 2 shirts and underwear. He describes the pants as something like "Dickies" work pants. I asked if he got shoes from them as well...he doesn't remember...but he assumed he did, because there wouldn't have been any other way for him to get shoes. His memories of the clothes are not good memories. He really despised those clothes! As he told me the other night, the clothes were "plain jane garbage". He said they were made of very cheap fabric and very poorly made. The pants and shirts were navy blue. He said he kinda feels like his clothes caused some of the problems he had in school with the other kids. He was very self conscious about his clothes while the other kids had "nice stuff like blue jeans". He said his clothes stuck out like a sore thumb! Now let me tell you, for my Dad to open up about feelings like this is astounding in itself. I am so glad that he shared being self conscious about his welfare clothes. It just makes me love him all the more. And to think when I was a teenager, I complained about not having expensive designer jeans such as Gloria Vanderbilt and Jordache! I had no idea of what it meant to have nothing!

As I write this, I'm getting choked up a little and tears are forming in my eyes. We grow up thinking our parents are this tough brick wall and cannot be crumbled...strong and sturdy...and they are...but we don't really think about who they were and what they felt like as a child...that they had hurts and wants as well.

end of part 2...stay tuned for part 3 of My father's story

my father's story, Part one

Today I'm taking a break from the usual posts of recipes and the daily happenings in and around my house. I have decided to write about my father's life because I think it is quite interesting. Well, of course, his values and morals and life experiences have had an impact on how I turned out. My Dad is 75 years old and I am still learning from him. I love my Dad...and here is his story.

August of 1936, my father became an orphan shortly after he was born. His mother died from complications from child birth. She had lost a lot of blood and tragically died before ever seeing or holding her newborn son. His father left and never had contact with him again. Such a sad way to come into life.

Here is a photo of my Dad's mother when she graduated high school. It is the only picture we have of her.

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania...my father's Aunt and Uncle and Grandmother, on his mother's side, took him in and cared for him from birth. His Aunt and Uncle also had children of their own. They all lived together in the same house until he was 5 years old.

One day, he and his Grandmother moved out of the house and into their own apartment. They lived in a building that housed 3 families and there was only one bathroom that all the families had to share. He remembers there was no hot running water. In fact, he never had hot running water until he was 10 years old. His Grandmother used to heat water in a big pot and pour it into the tub. She would then take a pot of cold water and add it to the tub to make the water temperature just right.

Struggling through The Great Depression during World War II, he and his Grandmother were very poor and lived on welfare for years. His Grandmother worked every Thursday. She would ride a street car, (trolley) to work where she ironed clothes for a woman and earned $2 dollars week. During the war everything was rationed. They received pressed cardboard coins that were colored red and green; these were used to buy things like butter and meat. One could also purchase gasoline with the coins.

My Dad told me about the street vendors that worked the neighborhoods. He remembers the ice man would come every day. My Dad would hang a sign in the window to let him know how much ice they needed. One side of the sign said 1 lb., 25 lb. and 50 lb. They other side of the sign said 75 lb. and 100 lb. Depending on what they wanted, he would rotate the sign to designate the pounds they needed. The ice man would use giant tongs to clutch the chunk of ice and carry it into their apartment. The icebox was used to keep food cool so it wouldn't spoil. The ice went on top and it would slowly melt and drip down into a pan that he would empty once or twice a day.

There were other colorful street vendors in the neighborhood as well. He remembers a man that would sharpen knives and scissors on a big wheel. Another man used to come around and fix umbrellas...can you imagine that? One vendor had a wooden cart that he pushed around calling out "rags, old iron...rags, old iron". People would bring out their rags and scrap iron instead of throwing it away. The man would then take the rags and iron and sell it for money.

As everyone knows, times were tough back in the early 1940's, and my father began doing what he could to earn money as well. At age 8, he used to pull a little wagon through the neighborhood and he too, would collect people's old rags as well as their newspapers. He would sell them to a junkyard for money. He was able to earn 15 to 20 cents for 100 lbs. of scrap newspapers and the rags.

Life continued on until my father was 13 years old. His Uncle had made the decision that he should be placed in an orphanage on the assumption that he was too much for his grandmother to handle. Of course, we don't have all the details and facts to this story, but this is all that my father remembers. Much to my father's disappointment, he was shipped off to Hershey Farm Orphanage for boys. He was unhappy there and felt very lonely. I can only imagine how sad he felt. Can you imagine being uprooted from the only life you know, from a Grandmother that loves you, to being thrown in an orphanage?

End of Part 1...stay tuned for Part 2 of My Father's story.

Fat squirrel

While walking around the yard this afternoon, I came upon a chubby squirrel sitting in the sun. He was snacking on an acorn, turning it over and over in his tiny little hands. He was so cute! and fat! Goodness, this squirrel did not go hungry this winter!