Ramblings of a 73 year old retired gentlemen
about his daily life and events around him
with a few good jokes just for fun

My dad's dad died before I was born so I never knew him. My dad never talked about his dad so I never learned much about him. When I asked my mom about my dad's dad she only said that he was mean.

Aside from that, my daughter Karen, learned that my dad's dad ran a general store on Parallel Avenue in Kansas City, Kansas. That's all I know of my dad's dad except that he once lived in Los Angeles because that was where my dad was born and that he had at least two children. Dad was raised a Catholic but fell away from the church because he said it was run on fear.

My dad's sister, Hazel, lived in Kansas City, Kansas too. She was married to Harvey, a barber, who smoked large stinky cigars. They had one son, Wil.

Before I go much further with this, let me explain why I'm writing about my dad. When I was growing up the fact that my dad never spoke of his dad didn't bother me. That was the way he was. Now that I'm a dad myself, I find that I haven't talked to my kids about my dad very much either. So this is to let them know about my dad; their dad's dad.

My dad's mother died when he was young, about 8 years old, I believe. His older sister helped raise him.

• Dad was 6' 1" tall and, as I remember him, was huge.
• He was bald, thick shouldered and had a beer belly that was firm, not flabby.
• He almost always wore bib overalls. I never knew him to wear a wrist watch.
• He used his railroad-accurate, pocket watch which I believe my sister has now.
• He had deep blue eyes like my daughter Mary.
• He had a grade school education but was very smart.
• He loved to hunt and fish and had leased several "cabins" where he could spend time doing his thing.
• He had a quick temper and you would never know what would set him off.

For the most part, I never got close to him. I was much closer to my mother who was always sweet and warm and wonderful.

Dad didn't play with me much when I was growing up. He did teach me to play checkers. I'll always remember his two basic principles:

1. If you are a head, trade out.

2. If you are losing, shake the board.

When I was about 8 years old I could easily beat my dad at checkers. He stopped playing.

I don't remember ever playing catch with my dad. I don't remember him ever catching a ball. Maybe he couldn't.

When I was a teenager, Dad started to drink a lot. One Christmas when I came home he came after me for something and knocked over the Christmas tree. Mom was next door and came and calmed him down. Another time he got drunk and wanted to whip me for something, I don't remember why, and I ran from him. That was the first and last time that every happened. After that he never tried to spank me. His spankings were with a leather razor strop and they hurt like you can't believe. It would hit you square on the butt and then wrap around and hit you on the side.

He was an engineer for the Union Pacific railroad working almost always in the switch yards because he didn't like being away from home. During the depression he was "cut from the board" (laid off) and did many things to bring in money to the family. He told me later that he made more money and was happier during the depression than he was working for the railroad. He said his dad told him, "You'll never get rich working for someone else." He was right, I did and didn't.

In his spare time, Dad bought used refrigerators and fixed them up and resold them. He did the fixing and mom did the selling. He was self taught on how to fix them. The ones he couldn't fix right away he put in storage garages that he rented from the neighbors. He had 3 at one time. They were so packed you couldn't move anything in or out. Pat marveled at them. The garages in the neighborhood opened onto an alley. At one time he rented one that opened on to a street. He felt he was in business then because people would stop by and see what he had for sale. I don't remember him putting up a sign. I wonder why he didn't. On the other hand me may have and I just forgot. I do that a lot nowadays. (I used to boast that I never remembered anything that I had forgotten. Lately, I've been remembering things long forgotten. Only this morning I remembered the name of Mrs. Dillon our grade school music teacher who taught twice a week.)

He didn't go to church or have many outside activities. He became an active member of the Masons later in life. That surprised me because he wasn't much of a joiner.

Dad loved my my wife Pat. He liked to take her out to buy Dairy Queen sundaes. He would always get her large ones with double toppings.

Pat loved my dad too. She saw only the good side of him, which was good.

Dad loved Terry too. His face would light up when he saw him. Terry was only 4 when dad died in 1959, but he claims he can still remember my dad putting his railroad cap on his head. He also says he remembers the dancing false teeth that dad had to amuse him.

He got diabetes toward the end and often didn't take his insulin. That may have contributed to his untimely death at the age of only 57.