Gratitude Day #2
Today I am grateful for my dad, Chester Lee Clemens.
I have a feeling my mom kept my dad in line. They both came from eastern Kentucky, but dad was likely one of those little roughneck Kentucky boys that got into all sorts of mischief with his brothers. Mom was one of those strong Kentucky women who had been surrounded by brothers. She knew how they worked.
Like Mr. Kerry, Dad was #5 out of eleven children. There were two siblings who wouldn't make it to adulthood. One was a brother who died of whooping cough. The other was a sister who had a pot of beans turn over onto her and her sister, who was holding her. That sweet little 3 1/2 year girl would suffer with burns for three days before she died.
Dad and mom married in 1932. The Depression. He only made it to 6th grade, having spent three years in 4th grade. His choices for work were limited, but he made up for it by being dependable and savvy. While raising his young family of three girls, he was drafted into the US Navy, and sent to Pearl Harbor.
When I came along many years later, I'm sure it wasn't what mom and dad planned for. I was raised like an only child. But, dad found a good use for me.
Besides being the bishop of our local congregation, he worked full time at Westinghouse and owned his own business - refrigeration and air conditioning repair. He often took me on those service calls with him to each me many things I use today.
One important lesson that I often mention is how carefully he would take things apart without being rushed. He would lay down a towel and begin to remove nuts, washers, screws, etc. in the exact order. He kept his tools good and clean. After examining what wasn't working, he would replace them in the same order, because he hadn't just jumbled them into a pile.
One day he taught me a valuable lesson. Don't be afraid to take something apart to see why it isn't working. Look for the problem. Fix it. Put it all back together.
It works for washers and dryers and stoves and refrigerators. And, it works for life.
Yesterday I related how my mom taught me a valuable lesson about people's hearts. I also learned something from my dad. Compassion.
Dad worked on people's appliances all over town. The neighborhood didn't matter. One day he told me he was going to a friend's new restaurant because a compressor had been acting up. Did I want to go? Sure!
We pulled into a small place that wasn't actually a restaurant, but a place where you could place an order for takeout. Soon a large black man came out and gave dad and me a big hug, and told him he was so glad he had come. He didn't want to lose his food. The name of the place - Johnny's Rib House. (I thought it had been Johnny's Rib Cage when I was younger.) It seems like he and dad had been friends for awhile.
Dad went in to go to work and I followed him. By now I had learned that I had nothing to fear because someone had a different skin color. Mom had taught me that earlier. Remember, I was just a young girl. This was the 1960s. I didn't quite understand all I was seeing on the news.
Dad fixed the compressor. As we got into the truck, Johnny came out with a huge package of ribs to give to Dad, who took them graciously. And, we drove off.
I asked Dad why Johnny had given him such a big package of ribs, and he told me that Johnny didn't have a lot of money since his business was fairly new. He had asked Dad if he could pay him in ribs. Dad said "Of course you can!"
Dad taught me compassion. And, I love ribs like no other meat, for many reasons.
I always felt safe around Dad. I never had to worry that he would be anything other than a father to me. In his later years, he lived with us. I gave him certain responsibilities around the house so he could feel it was his home, too. One day, I showed him my 15-generation pedigree chart, and went over some of the names that had been discovered since he and mom had sort of turned all of the researching over to us. He asked about so many of the names, and I would tell him which ones fought in the revolution, who was sued for adultery, which sides they fought on in the Civil War, etc.
He looked at me and said, "You know, I'm probably going to be meeting these people long before you do. I guess I better know as much as I can about them so when we're introduced I will know their story."
Dad was good. And today, I am grateful that he was my father.
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