Profile
Photos
Comments
Several immediate concerns had to be addressed, primarily, what to do about his work. Â It appeared Dad would not be able to work for several months. Â Â If Dad had been my hero, Jim had been his shadow. Â Jim and Larry were only 13 months apart in age. Â With three children, two still babies, Mother had her hands full.
So, Dad fell into the habit of taking Jim with him to take some of the load off Mother. Â By the time he was 10 ten years old, Jim was plowing fields, though he was so short he had to stand up because he could not reach the clutch and brake. Â By the time he was fourteen, he was driving the monster combine or running the hay bailer.
He often went with Dad when he worked his second job for the ASCS while we were still on the farm. Â Jim could read the aerial maps as well as Dad and could measure a field as accurately as he. Â So, in order to keep the income in the family, Jim took it over. Â He would go to college until noon; then he would work Dad's job in the afternoon.
Of course, we soon had to answer Dad's questions about the occupants in the other vehicle. Â He was terribly upset when we told him the gentleman had been killed. Â That second week he was in the hospital, the gentleman's wife and daughter came to see Dad.
They told Dad that they just wanted him to know that they did not in any way hold him responsible...that they understood their loved one was at much fault as he....and that it was just one of the tragedies of life that happen. Â They also added that they were very concerned for him and were praying for his complete recovery.Â
I thought that was one of the most gracious and spiritual things anyone could ever have done, given the fact that they had just buried their husband and father.
It helped my dad so much to hear those words; however, he recognized that it could just as easily have been he who was killed. Â Dad was not a religious man, although he went to church sporadically with the rest of the family.
However, since we had moved to Weatherford, we all had fallen out of the habit of attending church. So, I was a little surprised when Dad announced even before the visit that as soon as he was out of the hospital he wanted to be baptized. (Dad was one of those people who had lived a "good life" by the world's standards; but he recognized that he had not lived a "good life" by God's standards).
"God must have loved me an awfully lot to give me a second chance," he stated, and I plan to change my life."
Dad didn't smoke nor drink, but he had one bad habit. Â All his life Dad had cursed. Â It was so much a part of the way he talked that we hardly noticed it.
However, he also announced that he planned to stop cursing, which he did. Â He later stated that it was the hardest thing he ever did...it was an addictive habit for him just like smoking is for others.
And true to his word, three months later he was baptized. Â He refused to wait until his cast was removed. Â We went to the church with Dad still on crutches, wrapped his leg in plastic, and he was baptized. Â
He took up reading the Bible on a daily basis and never missed church again.
After Dad's cast was removed, he still had to use a cane. Â His right leg was now shorter than his left; eventually, he was able to walk without the cane, but he always had a limp. Â However, he had to give up many of the things he had loved so much...hunting being one of them.
He never complained, though; and he had a new joy in his life...a little grandson, who brought him such happiness. Â He would sit Kevin, Jim's baby, on his lap, as he drove his new pick-up around town and swear that this six-month old baby was driving and honking the horn. Â (Not too safe, by today's standards...but people did it then all the time.)
By the way, an interesting side note: Â Dad's new pick-up had to be specially ordered with an automatic transmission because he could no longer use his legs well enough to manage a clutch and brake at the same time. Â In 1965, pick-ups all were built with standard transmissions.
In January, five months after his accident, Dad returned to work. Â One day in March, he came home and told my mother that he had paid every single bill and/or debt that he owed.
"So, if something happens to me," he stated, "we don't owe anyone anything."Â
In early May of that year, Dad mentioned that his left arm had been bothering him. Â However, he did nothing about it. Â On May 18, 1965, just one week before I graduated from college and Larry graduated from high school, I was washing my car about 11.a.m....it was one of those glorious Spring days.
The front door was open, so I heard the phone ring; then I heard Mother scream.
I ran into the house to find her almost hysterical.Â
"Dad's had a very severe heart attack. Â We are to get to Clinton to the doctor's office just as quickly as we can. Â That's where he is."
All the way to Clinton, I kept wondering WHY he was at the doctor's office rather than the hospital if he had just experienced a severe heart attack.
When we arrived, the doctor and nurse greeted us at the door with hypodermics for Mother and me. Â Dad had become ill, had driven himself to the clinic and had suffered a cardiac incident just moments after arriving.
The doctor said he stood up, suddenly convulsed and fell to the floor.
"He never had a pulse from that moment," the doctor stated. Â "We worked with him for over an hour trying to restart his heart ; but we couldn't. Â "It was just a massive cardiac occlusion. I'm so sorry."
Dad was 50 years old.
