RHYS BOWEN: We have never celebrated Father's Day. John, that least sentimental of men, declared it a made-up holiday to cash in commercially. It was not celebrated in England when I was growing up. If it had been, I'd certainly have feted my father. Frank Newcombe Lee was the loveliest of men. Kind, gentle and caring. He was a big softie. When my brother and I were fighting he'd say, "Don't make me take this belt to you!: Actually he never struck either of us but we were still afraid of the threat.
Example of being a big softie: When I was in college I was going to Germany for my friend's wedding and asked for my ticket as a Christmas present. My only present as it was expensive. But transistor radios had just been invented (I know. I'm that old) and I coveted one. i certainly hadn't asked for one. My parents had limited funds and two kids in private school and college. So I was surprised, as I went through my Christmas stocking, to find a battery. What on earth could I need a battery for, I wondered. Then hope glimmered. Surely it couldn't be.... and it was. Right at the bottom, my transistor radio. That was my dad who not only picked up that I really wanted one, but went out and bought it.
He adored my mother and would do anything for her. Every Christmas he'd ask me to buy four pairs of nylon stockings to put on the tree as her little extra present. One Christmas he slipped a gold Swiss watch in between them.
He ran a paper factory. One of his workers, the stoker, Old Vic, got lung cancer and was in hospital. Daddy visited him every evening on his way home.
And I have an interesting story about that factory. It was small, in the middle of Kent. it made tissues, paper napkins, spiral bound notebooks (the first to do so). Last Christmas I was hunting for crackers ( the type you pull with a present inside).I had searched all over with no success My agent tipped me off to T J Maxx. I went there and found these beautiful large crackers. As I walked to the cash desk with them I studied them and nearly dropped them in a state of shock. Imported by the Swan Mill paper company. My dad's factory. the small factory in the middle of Kent and here I am in the middle of California. I got chills. It felt as if my dad had found these for me.
Do you have any special dad memories?
What lovely memories, Rhys . . . .
ReplyDeleteHappy Father’s Day . . . .
Your father sounds lovely, Rhys. And what a treat to find those crackers made by his company.
ReplyDeleteMy father, a high school social studies teacher, was also gentle and sweet. I was the third girl in the family, with one younger brother, and I was the only one interested in the "guy" stuff Daddy did. When I asked, he didn't balk at teaching me how to change a tire on the car, how to thread the movie projector and splice film, how to use a saw. But books were his specialty. 'll always remember him leaping up from the dinner table to fetch a reference volume (we had three sets of encyclopedias) and bring it back to the meal so he could answer a question one of us had raised.
He was an inveterate writer of long typed letters, and I know how proud he would be of my writing career.
Another sweet memory - he was usually the parent who walked me back to bed after one of my frequent nightmares. He would softly sing me to sleep: "You are my Sunshine," "Away in a Manger," "Wildwood Rose," and other non-lullabies.
DeleteYou are my Sunshine was always sung to me too, Edith! Rhys
DeleteMy dad sang that to me, too!!
DeleteMy dad was a butcher who worked in his parents' tiny grocery store/meat market in our small town until he opened his own meat packing business in Hartford. Dad was a real character. My grandfather brought him down to the motor vehicle department to get his driver's license at age 12 and he drove the truck to farms all over the state picking up cattle. He could tell stories that would keep you riveted, jokes that would have you holding your sides, mimic accents from around the world and imitate animal noises including a horse's whinny with the whistle sound . And he could whistle tunes, or call us home from half a mile away with an ear shattering blast. He was generous and loving and I do miss him.
ReplyDeleteRhys, that must have been a shock!
ReplyDeleteEvery year I call my mother to wish her a happy Father's Day, because my own dad passed away around this time of year in 1969, and Mother became both parents to my younger siblings. Daddy was a flawed and complicated individual, but I try to focus on our sweet moments: he called me Sugar when I was little, and he taught me how to cook some complicated savory dishes, like stuffed pork chops and Swiss steak. Also, he could whistle tunefully, a rare skill even then.
Edith reminded me of a sweet memory of my own dad. I had terrible earaches when I was small, and my dad was the one who would soothe them for me by gently blowing cigar smoke into my ears. It must have been an old remedy, left over from before penicillin (which only came into wide use a few years before I was born).
DeleteRhys your dad was certainly a wonderful dad! My father was too - although he could be rather strict if we didn't behave (which was often for my brother & I). He was strict but loving. Every night he came to my room and stood next to me and said the Lord's Prayer with me, well into my teens, and we went through all the family names for a blessing as well. I would also ask him and he would tell a funny story from his childhood. He was a Navy pilot in WWII and then became an officer aboard various ships and retired after 20 years as a Commander. He went on to teach high school math as a second career. He loved to swim, and he biked to work back in the 60's long before it was a cool thing to do.
ReplyDeleteLovely stories about your dad! I love that the Christmas crackers were from your dad's company.
ReplyDeleteMy dad read us stories when we were little, and told us jokes when we were older. He was a wonderful mimic and could do many different accents. He also told us about his childhood in Leeds, and especially about his spinster great aunts, Florrie, Flossie, and Annie who lived nearby and spoiled him rotten.
Love the Christmas cracker story! I order them from a British company via Amazon.
ReplyDeleteOne of Dad's best statements: "Your mother gardens, I just do her yard work."
A father is always a father came to me a few years ago after I had broken my ankle (same one, third time in 3 years – klutz). I had to have surgery and was thus laid up for 6 weeks, plus more in the Boot. Jack had to work, so I was left at home by myself with a comfortable chair, the clicker and a wheelchair. I could manage to drag myself from one chair to the other and then to the bathroom, but that was my limit.
ReplyDeleteWe heat our house with wood, but have electric backup, which is never turned on. My father would come down from where he lived up the hill several times a day to make sure that the fire was lit and therefore putting the room heat up to scandalous. Then he would sit in the chair and sometimes we would talk, and sometimes we would just do the puzzle in the paper sharing the occasional grunt. As winter turned to spring and the snow started to dissipate and I was still like this, he came down in the golf cart, loaded me aboard and took me for a drive to see the flowers in bloom in the yard. Bumpy it was, but he took his time to make sure that it was not too painful, and that I didn’t fall out. He was well into his 80’s at the time.
Yes, a father is always a father…
Awwwwww I love reading these! And Rhys, the cracker story is beautiful. Xxxx
ReplyDeleteI’m the oldest of five. When I was 29, my dad told me that it was an unexpected pleasure, as a parent, to have his children grow up to be the kind of adults he would choose as friends. This conversation was very special to me, and I still treasure the memory. My dad died suddenly, three months later, of a heart attack. He was only 55.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Dad, for everything you did for us.Happy Father’s Day!
DebRo
Your dad's comment seems like the ultimate compliment a parent could give their children. I'm so glad you have that lovely memory. ~Lynda
DeleteI love these memories!
ReplyDeleteDad was convinced, and convinced me, that I could do anything. As a result, like Edith, I learned to change tires, work on cars, operate machinery, whatever. My fondest memory was the first time I remember a total lunar eclipse. I don't think I was older than three or four. My dad and I spent the night sitting at the window watching the moon disappear into shadow. The next day, he began teaching me constellations by painting them on my bedroom ceiling! Good times.
The best kind of dad, Kait!
DeleteWonderful memories, Rhy and all! I was thinking recently of a memory of my dad, which revealed a dad I'd never seen before. My brother Mitch once jumped on the pony and took off down the road, the pony's hooves slipped, Mitch was left sitting in the road. My dad had been in the living room conversing with a friend, but one glance out the window and he was out of the house at a run. He had Mitch stabilized, the Emergency squad called within a minute, and the pony rounded up and safely home--in total command of the situation, calm and calming us. I realized years later why his commanding officer said of him "he was a soldier's soldier."
ReplyDeleteYour dad sounds like a gem, Rhys - My dad was about the best thing a dad could be: mad about his daughters. He thought all four of us were the smartest, cutest, funniest, etc etc and of course it went to our heads. My Jerry felt the same way about our daughters (smart, cute, funny: and they are!)
ReplyDeleteOh, I love that story, Rhys. I believe your dad did find you all the way in California :)
ReplyDeleteI have a lot of great/terrible memories of my dad because he was a very complicated/tortured person so I like to remember him as the fine grandpa he became to the Hooligans.
Oh, Rhys, how lovely. I believe we find ourselves connecting to our loved ones in all sorts of ways - including Christmas crackers! My dad was also a gentle, kind man, the one we would turn to after doing something wrong because he took everything calmly (and would set out punishment just as calmly. Mom would rail and rant and forget to ground us.) He was a wonderful example to me in what to look for in a husband, which I think is one of the great responsibilities of fathers of daughters.
ReplyDeleteI agree with your final point, Julia - and an example of how to raise our sons.
DeleteShalom Reds and readers,
ReplyDelete----------Happy Fathers’ Day. My father was the gentlest man I knew. He was not into making idle threats. So, when he would threaten us with the belt, it was only after one of us had jumped up and down repeatedly on his reserve nerve.
----------I remember one incident in particular, where he became frustrated with me. I must have been about 5 years old. He had taken me to a professional basketball game at whatever was then Madison Square Garden. After the game, very late in the evening, he drove us to Bedford-Stuyvesant, where he had grown up and where some of my aunts still lived. He was taking me to one of his old haunts, a restaurant named McDonalds, at the corner of Stuyvesant and Macon Streets. Now this was not a Golden Arches fast-food joint. The owner just happened to be a McDonald. My dad wanted to show off his son in the old neighborhood.
----------We found a parking spot and I remember getting out of the car by myself and promptly stepping in some dog poop. In his frustration with me, he simply said, “Ahh, David. You have to watch where you’re stepping.” He searched the car for a napkin or paper towel and cleaned my shoes off the best he could.
----------From that whole evening, the only two things I remember were the orange flicker of cigarettes across the court at the Garden and my dad’s quiet frustration with me having stepped in the poop.
Lovely post, Rhys--especially the Christmas crackers!--and your dad sounds very much like mine. My dad was gentle and funny and loved to sing. Your cracker story reminded me of how much he loved Christmas. He and I did all the gift wrapping--for a very non-mechanical guy he was remarkably good at it--and he adored Christmas carols. And the Christmas tree. My mom always complained about the tree. She didn't want a real tree, she didn't want a big tree (why, I never figured out) but every year my dad and I would go pick the tree out together and come home with the biggest one we could get through the door, and then he and I and my grandmother would decorate it together. Fun times.
ReplyDeleteHappy father memories, everyone!
ReplyDeleteYour dad sounds like he was a terrific dad. And how amazing about the crackers! Wonderful share.
ReplyDeleteWhat wonderful memories. My dad got off to an extremely rocky start, had a difficult childhood, and was still able to become a loving husband and father. One of the most telling things about him was his ability to forgive, and love, his parents, especially his mother. He was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer in 1981, and she refused to visit him, even though she outlived him. She did, however, come for his funeral, which I never understood. He always selected her birthday and Mother's Day cards, wrote long, newsy letters to her and phoned often. He ended his calls by telling her he loved her, and she never reciprocated.
ReplyDeleteMy parents were both readers, and Dad introduced me to poetry. He did an excellent reading of The Spider and the Fly, which I read to myself each year on his birthday. He died at home, as was his plan, and as Mom and I sat with him, he made a joke about the poem just five minutes before breathing his last. Extraordinary man. I miss him every day. ~Lynda
Wow! I got chills just reading this. What are the odds your crackers were from your Dad’s papermill? I have many wonderful memories of my Dad. Thankfully we have our memories to get us through days like this.
ReplyDeleteMy dad took us berry picking along the railroad (before they sprayed it all), fishing and to get bait. Our friends often came along and remembered this. When we were teenagers, my brother's friends called him "Cool George". Both my parents were readers, and Dad took me along to get library books on his card. He died at 61 just when he planned to retire.
ReplyDelete