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| Paul Lawrence Senior Picture |
Dear Daddy,
I love that your favorite color was brown. It’s because you were always a farmer in your
heart…brown is the color of the earth. Brown
is the color of dirt, foundation, sun-drenched skin, worms, tree bark,
mountains…it is simple and rich at the same time. Like you.
You and I were so different in many ways. As I grow older, I see that there are ways that I am more like you than I understood when you were
here. There are so many questions that I
would like to ask you. When I was mature
enough to truly want to know you, you were already fading away. You stopped knowing my name about 6 years
before you left us. It was too late to
get my questions answered.
Maybe when we meet in Heaven, we will talk. Maybe my questions won’t seem so important then. Maybe then we will just enjoy each
other. That is okay, too.
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| Daddy and me, 1964 |
I didn’t find out until after your funeral that you were a
football star at the same High School that I attended! I would have loved to ask you about
that. When we cleaned out the house to
sell, I found the clippings, which I still have to this day. What other secrets did I not know?
When I asked you what attracted you to Mom when you first
met her at that dance pavilion, you smiled and said you liked her tight sweater. I laughed at your honesty. But I know that there was more to the
story. A marriage of over 50 years is
built on more than sweater size.
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Wedding Day November 29, 1952
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I know that you loved her like no other and you trusted her completely.
You gave her your paycheck on Wednesday nights and you never thought
about money afterwards…you never even wrote a check. She was your finance manager and your
household manager and you did not question her decisions. She gave you an allowance for gas money and
that was it. That was all you
needed. Fortunately, for all of us, she
was skilled at stretching a dollar and saving.
The house was paid off when I was 11.
We were never in debt. You were a great team.
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| Paul, 14...Diane, 12...David, 10...Janice, 3 |
You weren’t a guy who wanted toys. You didn’t care about the finer things in
life. You got socks and underwear for
your birthday and Fathers’ day…sometimes a new tie for church. (Okay, so on this point we are different!)
I remember the only time I saw you spit-out food was when
you first tried caviar on your 25Th anniversary. No, you were a sardine kind-of-guy. (This drove my cat, Alexander, crazy. Even though he was an outside cat, in the
middle of winter he could smell the sardines when you would pop open the tin in
the kitchen.)
You were tired when you came home from work. When you were on the daytime shift, you would
eat dinner and then soon fall asleep on the living room floor after the evening
news. In this, we are alike (except for
the living room floor part). When you
were on the evening shift, you would be putting on your work boots on the front
steps when I was coming home from school.
It was hello and goodbye. You
would have your brown bag “lunch” beside you on the step, probably a bologna
sandwich and an apple packed lovingly by Mom.
Usually a couple of homemade cookies were in there, too. Your favorites were molasses cookies. Or if us kids had eaten all the homemade
cookies, there would be Fig Newtons.
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| Old habits die hard...with granddaughter Stephanie |
Our newspaper didn’t come until after you left for
work. It’s funny to think about now, but
our town had an evening paper instead of a morning paper. Mom would write notes to you on the top of
the newspaper about anything that had happened after you left for work. You would read her notes and the newspaper
when you got home (long after we were all asleep) and then you would go to
bed. It was a regular thing…newspaper
with mom’s notes to you at the top. I
wish today that I had kept one of them. (Yes,
I do have hoarder tendencies...I attach emotion to things that stir my heart.)
You were tired on “working” days. On weekends, you spent as much time as you
could outdoors. You picked up sticks in
the yard regularly. You mowed and weeded
and maintained two beautiful gardens. We
had fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce, cabbage, onions, peppers, potatoes, carrots,
beans, strawberries, grapes, rhubarb, and raspberries! We also had two apple trees. This was normal for me then…I thought
everyone lived like this. I thought
nothing of it. Today, I am in awe of the
bounty of your work and your farmers-thumb.
Mom canned and we ate from your gardens all year long.
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| Stephanie and AJ and Grandpa's Garden |
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Watering the crops with Steph and Joey
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| Flowers were always planted around the house |
Our time together was outside. I would walk with you down the long dirt road
to our neighbor, Clarence’s farmhouse.
Clarence lived there with his Aunt Minnie. How I wish I had a picture of the two of
them. Minnie had arthritis bad and she
wore housecoats with her rings pinned to them.
One day I complimented one of her rings and she took it off and put it
on my finger. It was a perfect fit, and
it was my birthstone, a Ruby in a 10K gold antique setting. I still have it to this day. Minnie and I would sit on the old porch swing
together and talk. I was just a little
girl but I sensed that Minnie liked my visits and I liked Minnie. Give this girl jewelry and you have a friend
for life!
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| Clarence and Minnie's before it was torn down |
Clarence, your best friend (other than Mom), was quite a
character with his farm clothes and suspenders, his round wire rim glasses
(before they were popular) and his pipe extended from his mouth like a
permanent fixture. He had a huge old
farm tractor with a mowing attachment which he used to trim the brush between
our dirt road and his. He had pigs and
chickens. I loved throwing apples that
had fallen on the ground from his apple orchards into the pig sty and see them
run (run as much as pigs can do) and squeal and grunt and swallow them
whole. I remember you taking me to the
barn after piglets were born and you helped me up to see over the fence. The huge mama pig was lying on her side with ten
or so tiny piglets sucking their breakfast.
You were in awe of nature and you loved sharing it with me. Just like when you trimmed our pine trees
into gumdrop shapes and you would find a bird’s nest…you would wave me over
quietly to show me the babies with their necks outstretched and their mouths
opened wide, waiting for worms to be deposited.
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| Overgrown and abandoned |
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| The very last time we saw Clarence's farm... |
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| Where the pigs once lived... |
I loved Clarence and Minnie’s ancient house with the antique
stuffed velvet living room furniture covered in sheets and the main room’s
stacks and stacks of National Geographic’s.
I don’t think Clarence ever threw one away. I bet he shared them with you, Dad, because
the one time my college friend and I played trivial pursuit with you, you knew
the names of obscure rivers in Africa! You whooped us good. And you never went to college. Why did I not realize before that you were an
intelligent man? You were so quiet and
unpretentious.
I loved drinking the crisp, fresh water out of Clarence’s
well with you in that old tin cup that he kept in the well house. It was ice cold and the best water I have
ever tasted to this day. I loved
walking through his orchards and hearing you tell me the names of the trees and
leaves. (We did this one time for my
school project.) I loved walking through
the plowed cornfields and searching for arrowheads with you. I didn’t make time for it very often, but if
I wanted to be with you, that is where you would be.
I remember the day Clarence died. He had been in the hospital for quite some
time and we had visited him there. I
thought it so strange to see him in pajamas and without his hat and pipe. Was it really him? Days later, you were on the floor in the living
room reading the paper and Mom came in the room to tell you that Clarence had
died. You stared at the ground and you
were silent. I wish now that you could
have cried. I knew that you were so
sad. You were taught not to show emotion
and you were good at it back then.
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| Gum Drop Trees where many-a-bird was born |
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| Winter Memories |
I was happy for you when you retired from your job as a
machinist. You came full circle. You were free to be outside as much as you
wished and you chose to spend time helping your son, Paul, on his farm. He had the life you might have chosen for
yourself if things had worked out differently.
You never spoke words of regret. You never complained. I wish I had asked you about that, too.
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| All 11 Grandchildren together... |
You were always a good dancer, but you danced more after you
retired. You were more playful after you
retired. And as you got older, you had
more of a sparkle in your eyes. (Maybe it was always there, but I started really noticing it at that time.) You were
a fun grandpa for your grandchildren. We
all enjoyed your presence. Do you remember that day when your grandkids were playing outside and and they wrote out in giant chalk letters on the cement, "the nicest man lives here!"? I remember.
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Erin and Andy pretending Grandpa is a horse...
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As your mind began fading, your playfulness increased. Sometimes you would spontaneously begin
dancing a jig. One day, when asked why you were
dancing, you replied, “I have grasshoppers in my pants!”
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| He was saying something funny... |
My favorite memories of you were Sunday mornings in our
Baptist church. After I moved away and
came home to visit, the times became fewer and more precious. I loved hearing you sing. You had amazing rhythm and timing as a dancer
but you could not carry a tune for the life of you. I loved hearing you sing because I believe
that you meant what you were singing.
You were worshipping. A lot of
men who can’t sing simply don’t sing.
They stand in church and move their mouths as if they were singing, but
they never sing. You sang with your
heart. It was beautiful to me. I think it must have been beautiful to God,
too. I remember one of the last times I
heard you and Mom singing and I knew that time was rushing by and that soon
there would be no more Sunday mornings in church with you and Mom. I am grateful that I understood that and I
cherished the moment. I heard you singing one of my favorite
contemporary worship songs, “...This is my daily bread…” I took a snapshot with my
heart. When I close my eyes, I can hear
you.
I love you, Daddy. I
love you even more now than I was able to back then.
I appreciate you more now. I didn’t think I wanted an “ordinary” life
like yours. I thought there was
something more glamorous out here for me.
I didn’t see that your “ordinary” life was quite extraordinary. You were like your favorite color brown…simple
and rich. I didn’t know that the two
went together. But you did. You lived it.
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| One of the last Father's Days we shared |
Breathe
Written By Marie Barnett (sung by Michael W. Smith and many
others, including Dad and Mom and me)
This is the air I breathe
This is the air I breathe
Your Holy presence living in me
This is my daily bread
This is my daily bread
Your very word spoken to me
And I, I'm desperate for you
And I, I'm lost without you
