Last week was Amelia’s spring break. I decided to take her on a trip I took her mother on many years ago. To the great white north! And white it was, the ground was covered with snow when we got there and the temps were in the 30’s.
We stayed 2 days on the New York Side, 2 days on the Canadian side, and then made our way to Dearborn Michigan, where we went to The Henry Ford Museum and Rouge Factory Tour. Something my uncle was going to go with us to, but unfortunately passed away before we were able to. He was with us in spirit.
It was the most boring FLW home I’ve toured, minus one detail. A sculpture in the conservatory. Which I purchased a smaller version of. Her mom and I went to many FLW homes, including Fallingwater and were foundation members for a few years.
The view from our hotel room in Canada was glorious. Making it not needed to do many things along the gorge that most do.
We did go to the Journey Behind the Falls experience, something her mom and I also did.
While there, I had to pickup some Cuban cigars. Something that was strictly not allowed during my first visit. I must say, they are the best tasting cigars I’ve ever had in my life. Well worth the price.
I’m quickly running out of these “take her on trips I took her mom on” trips. There’s only 1 left, and that is Fallingwater & the Flight 93 memorial. I hope Amelia is able to look back on these experiences with just me and appreciate them as she becomes an adult.
On our last “adventure day” on our wonderful get away, we did something I always wanted to do, we went on a legitimate Mississippi river boat. It was also July 4th, our nations birthday. I found this to be the best way to celebrate our country, to learn about one of the first engines of our capitalist nation.
While I wanted to go on the Natchez, it’s apparently out of service with “The City of New Orleans” fulfilling it’s duties for the time being. I chose the Sunday brunch cruise, not too early not too late. Perfect for us.
The line to board took me this far away
Personally, I had a blast. The adults enjoyed the food, which included grits that were so fine I originally thought they were mashed potatoes, red beans and rice and jambalaya.
The interior was pure 19th century recreated
While not an actual steam boat, The City of New Orleans gives you a similar experience, with it’s paddle wheel and large stacks.
Kira was originally scared of the paddle wheel, out of a fear of something I had done earlier when we went to the Children’s museum. Amelia showed her that it was nothing to be scared of, and I assured her that I would not throw her overboard or hurt her in any way, and she relaxed.
I can see it in her eyes, “don’t throw me into this thing.”
The cruise involved a jazz band, who’s music was streamed all over the ship on TV and audio, they were stationed on the 3rd deck. There was also a gentleman who narrated the history about the areas we were traveling through and past.
Many onboard, didn’t take the food option and grabbed seats on the decks instantly, so we didn’t have the opportunity to find a “good” place to see the sights on the river, but that was okay. I didn’t take too many photos because I was again on water, and after the swamp tour I was a bit on edge.
While there are some changes, I can only imagine this is somewhat similar as to what people saw hundreds of years ago as they came to the French Quarter.
The French Quarter from the Mississippi River
This is definitely something I would recommend any family do if vacationing in New Orleans. It was nice and fun, suitable for all ages. Not something that is applicable for all things New Orleans.
I’m thankful Amelia gave me some good photos, it’s such a rare thing anymore
The next day we planned our exit strategy and packed up. It was a wonderful time in the crescent city. The big easy pulled all of her charms on me, and opened my mind on so many things that had been closed for years.
I was finally able to be a man of my word to the man who gave me my first blog. When Amelia and I visited for a short period in 2019, I told him I would house-sit for him while he took his vacation, then a worldwide pandemic happened.
We spent 25 days out and about. Primarily staying in and around New Orleans, but making stops in Huntsville, AL, Panama City Beach, FL and Pensacola Beach, FL. We also took day trips to Venice, LA (on the Great River Road) and to Grand Isle, LA.
B has told me over the years that Louisiana during June and July is highly humid, I can’t remember the term he used exactly but it was meant as a warning. That said, now that I have returned – the peculiar weather conditions in the south are actually better for me than those of the midwest. I was able to do all the things there, where I cannot here.
I’m very confused at this point. This is the first part of many writings on this 25 day vacation.
Two days ago was a holiday to celebrate the fathers in our lives. It’s a hard day for me, as my father, grandfather and papaw were all heroes to me. With each one passing, my heart broke more, my optimism for the world vanishing. Let me tell you about those men, and why the loss of them continues to break my heart each and every day.
My Father
My own father grew up without his father. His brother, my grandmother and his own grandparents was his family unit as a child. My grandma worked at the Stone City bank in Bedford, walking to work every day. From the ways my father described growing up, they were poor. Regardless, they always had a roof over their heads and always had a meal to eat. If my father wanted something he had to work for it however. He and my uncle had paper routes and as my father grew up, he mowed lawns for money.
This is all you need to know to know the path my father took for the rest of his life. His number one goal in life was to not be poor, and to provide whatever he could to his family. Due to his “having nothing” as a child, he was also a closeted hoarder. When he passed away, I got rid of 500 pounds of “things” he had collected that were in the bed of his pickup truck.
When I started Civil War Re-enacting, dad jumped right in.
His faithful devotion to his job was something I always admired, and picked up after a hard start in adulthood. His desire to give his child (me) the best things in life, is the same thing I do with my own. Money is often no object, as long as those I love are happy.
Education was important to my father. He graduated high school in 1969, and immediately went to Indiana University, but never got a degree. Instead choosing a career in industry. It wasn’t until that career crumbled for all that he enrolled in Ivy Tech State College and achieved a degree in computer networking. When he passed away, he was a student in film studies at Indiana University while working 3rd shift as a custodian in the same building I would eventually start working in. He was tired, but he was also happy.
He never pushed me, but gently guided me in the subject of education. When I got my GED at the age of 17, he told me to go enroll at Ivy Tech and not worry about the costs. He didn’t tell me, but he secretly paid for all the tuition and books. I’ve given that same opportunity to my oldest daughter. Education hasn’t been an easy subject for she and I.
There’s a phrase that circles social media that sums up my father quite well, “My father didn’t tell me how to live; He lived and let me watch him do it.”
My Grandfather
Born not too far away from where Will Rogers was, he was a free spirit in a way that is hard to understand if you aren’t close to native culture. Growing up in the dust bowl era Oklahoma, it was a new state – and for the most part, still Indian Territory. A radio operator in the Navy during WWII, who installed radar systems on the pacific fleet prior to Pearl Harbor, he met my grandmother in Washington D.C. while on shore leave from that post.
She nor him could decide on where to live. She hated Oklahoma, and he was not a fan of Indiana. He worked at RCA where they made radios at the time, and always stayed in the field of electronics. My grandparents split and he built a new life back at home. While there, he built a career and a new family. He was the radio & TV repairman for the entire area, back when that was a thing.
A soft spoken man, I can still hear the way he spoke with a bit of a southern draw but soft volume.
All of his electronic equipment made a young boy really fascinated with technology. A fascination that lives on to this day. Sadly, many of the lessons he taught me on his oscilloscope and other equipment have long since left my mind.
The first time he visited us in Indiana, I was awestruck.
A humble man, never one to boast or brag. I appreciated that about him. He named all of his trucks “Johnny Brown.” I was fortunate to own the last one for a period of time, Johnny Brown IV. A deeply spiritual man too, although I never got to see that side, he was a faithful member of the Assemblies of Yahweh.
His generation, much like mine saw tremendous amounts of change. Change in technologies and society. The world he grew up in was significantly different than the one he saw his later years in. I was fortunate to actually know him, I don’t think any of his other grandchildren did. I spent a week with him in 1996, just he and I. I would give anything to recapture that time with him.
Due to his influences in my life, I have always taken the Cherokee culture he provided to me seriously. Never doubting but sometimes questioning the mason jars of herbs and roots he kept in his kitchen. I also give him credit for the paths in technology many members of our family have decided to take. My uncle became a mainframe programmer in 1968, I began working in IT support in 2008 and my cousin does the same but with cellular phones and technologies.
My Papaw
This one is the hardest of all to write. He passed away when I was 7 years old. That said those years were very influential on me. He wasn’t my biological grandfather. He wasn’t my adopted one (yes I had one), no he was just the man who was married to my memaw when I was born, and took the job as his own.
Completely different than my own dad or grandfather, he grew up locally in Smithville, a 1957 graduate of Smithville High School. He was a “greaser” when he was young. His family name, well known in the area.
In her final years, my memaw gave me a few things including his class ring.
From a young age, we did things that are quite frankly hard for me to do even now because of the memories. We would spend hours “mushroom hunting.” My memaw would give us a bunch of bread sacks and he and I would just go walking in the woods, for hours. I’ve never been a fan of those mushrooms, but I’d give anything to spend that time with him again.
We spent countless weekends fishing. With him buying me my very first fishing pole. We would fish at Lake Monroe and several pay lakes in the area. On one occasion while at a pay lake I thought I had caught a fish. Once I got it reeled in however, it was quickly discovered that it was a bobber (a device used to keep the line from sinking to the bottom). We talked about that until my memaw passed away. One of the few things I have of my papaw’s is his tackle box, which is just a repurposed lunch box.
We would often catch a whole stringer full of bluegill and sunfish. Papaw and I would clean the fish, and then memaw would fry them up in a coordinated assembly line. They were wonderful times.
He taught me lessons of hard work, as their property had lots of trees. To mow, we had to pick up all of the sticks that had fallen, to ensure the mower would not get damaged. We would spend countless hours upon hours doing chores of little note really, but that time he spent with me will forever be priceless.
Their house was always a safe space for me, to the point that one time I even “ran away” and rode my bicycle 6 miles to their house. Completely exhausted, I slept for hours once I got there. That house was always my safe space as a child.
Summary
These three men all provided me with gifts that made me who I am today. They all provided me with a stable, solid foundation of what it means to be a good man. Their losses also haunt me each and every day. I’m surrounded by my fathers things, my grandfather is always on my mind and in my spirit. His grave is the one grave I have to visit. I’m sad that my papaw didn’t get to see the next 10 years, where the family exploded with babies and happiness.
While I know death is a part of life, nothing prepared me for it. I feel ill prepared to give those gifts to my children and this next generation of humans. I feel stuck emotionally and spiritually. To me, Father’s day is a day that brings me immense sadness on a level that my vocabulary simply cannot describe.
I hope this period of my life provides me with the tools to cope, and the tools to break out of this shell of continual penance I seem to be putting myself through. I somehow feel to blame and/or destined to follow the same paths my literal forefathers took. It’s wearing on the soul.
As twenty nineteen draws to a close, I welcome those roaring twenties with open arms. The teens have been primarily full of hardship and strife for me.
I lost both of my grandmothers. My father passed away unexpectedly. I had a horrible divorce with implications that still impact my life.
On the upside, I finally gained full time employment for the first time since 2006, and then within a year I advanced my career to a place I never thought I would be professionally.
I went on some wild and crazy adventures and found love again. But I constantly feel as if life is not worth living due to those losses I faced. My hunger and motivation just aren’t the same anymore.
I look forward to twenty twenty. May you bring some of the same things you brought the twentieth century. I’d love to see society step up it’s apparel, lets bring class back to our lives. I want to see the optimism of my youth make a return. I want to see my daughters grow, learn and continue to become the things they want to be.
My plans for twenty twenty include finally beginning to drive dad’s IROC-Z, revisiting New Orleans and continuing to try to get myself over the grief I face on a daily basis. I never imagined how heavy my heart would feel five years post my father’s passing.
My life motto since that event is tattooed on my left forearm, something I stitched together from a letter my dad wrote to me while I was at church camp.
I’ve went all Ebeneezer Scrooge this year for some reason. I don’t know why, and I definitely do not like or enjoy it.
I’ve had a lot of things dumped on me at the last minute at work, with a demanded completion date of by the end of the year.
My girlfriend, and her children picked up some sort of sickness. So I did what I do in these situations, stay away. I’ve been at home, by myself all week.
I have a ton of things to do here, but no will to do them. I need to wrap Christmas presents, disassemble that darned TV antenna to return to Amazon, and work on the Camaro.
I’m stressed, the clock is ticking on Christmas, and I seem to be getting more depressed by the day.
I thought this was supposed to be “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year.” For me, it has been the darkest time of the year for 5 years solid now.
Before posting this, I decided to do something. Just writing this motivated me. So I attempted to install the new speakers in the Camaro. The drivers side went well. Then I attempted to install the passengers side. Everything went well until I tried to test them, they didn’t work. While trying to diagnose the issue, the speaker fell apart. Sigh. I’m going to bed, maybe I can forget this day.
While on our short vacation, my mind refused me the opportunity to forget about what was going on at home. Instead it kept thinking about that phrase that was etched into my mind that night. I kept running scenarios in my head about my girls; I didn’t like to, but I had to.
I felt bad for everyone who had been affected by this storm, especially the less fortunate ones who lived in that trailer court, right next door to me. They had lost everything, and probably didn’t have insurance. There were many children living there, so many that the schools had 2 buses come for pickup and drop off. We would see them all waiting for the bus in the mornings on our way to work. I still see their faces, and imagine what they must have went through on that eventful night.
I received two phone calls that Saturday while we were in Michigan, our power had been restored! It had been out for around 3 and 1/2 days. We don’t know how many utility poles had to be replaced in total, but it was a large number.
Since I had Internet access, I was always keeping up on the news. Our township trustee had organized a volunteer day, to help with tree & debris cleanup. This made all of us happy, and was the first step in putting my heart and soul to ease. In the end there were a total of 3 volunteer days, but the news that an IU student had disappeared shifted the focus, and the volunteers.
We returned from Michigan on Memorial day, and reality set in. While I had no damage to my home, we had lost about 10 trees; including our beloved apple tree. Many of these trees formed a ‘natural’ fence along my property line. They provided large amounts of shade and oxygen, they were also wrapped in vines. Anyone that knows me, knows that I’m a “jack of all trades.” I have had experience in cutting trees since I was about 12, when I helped my then step-dad do just that for a living.
We had already lost our weeping willow tree and a maple tree due to wind and ice storms that occurred earlier in the year, we purchased a chain saw so I could clean them up; I was prepared. Little did I know how difficult the task would be when vines were involved. This was a task I couldn’t handle, this task needed a quantity of experience people.
We decided to get estimates from tree-trimming businesses. I called around 5 companies, only one showed up and gave me an estimate. It was more expensive than we wanted to pay, and under our homeowners insurance deductible. I wasn’t going to feel at ease until this was taken care of; I was literally stuck between a bunch of trees and a hard place.
I turned to our township trustee’s office. I called them and asked for assistance, but let them know that I should be placed on the bottom of their list. I let them know that it was simply downed trees that needed to be cleaned up, there was no damage to my home and that it shouldn’t be a priority. While we could have paid for the cleanup; it would have presented a financial burden that we might have not recovered from.
A few days go by and as I arrived home from class an Mennonite looking fellow was at my house. He said he was surveying what needed to be done; he was assembling a crew. The next day when I arrived home, the trees were almost cleaned up! It was a group of boys and a man. At the time I presumed they were Mennonite, since they used technology. It turns out I was wrong; it was the Worthington Amish Youth Group. I thanked each one of them personally, and asked if they needed anything at all. They requested some water, which I promptly fetched and then they went about their business.
With all the property damage and the trailer court in ruins, I was blown away that they decided to help ME. My whole family is in their debt and are working on a way to pay it forward and show them how much we appreciate what they’ve done for us.
After they finished cleaning up the trees, a larger group, including women went over to the trailer court and assisted cleanup.
The effects of this tornado will be felt and seen for many years to come. Not just from the people (like me) who live where it happened, but by the thousands of travellers that take that section of Highway 45. I went through many years of emotional issues as a child, which I thought had toughened me mentally. I learned the hard way that I was wrong.
While we are mainly healed from this event, our souls will never forget it. That storm took something from me. Even though I don’t exactly know what “it” is, I feel incomplete inside. I don’t know how to move on from this experience. Writing this has certainly helped.
There have been many things going on lately. With the holiday season and new years over, I’m reflecting on all the activities we’ve been pre-occupied with.
Christmas, as always is a very complicated time for us. We went to 3 family events, my grandma Lawmaster’s on the 23rd, my in-law’s on the 24th and my memma’s on Christmas day. We then had “after” Christmas get togethers for my daughter, who spent her Christmas with her mother.
Rachel and I finally stopped schmoozing off of my mother for our cell phone service and got our own plan. We decided to switch back to AT&T, due to a 12% IU discount, and cheaper plan. I finally got a smart-phone, a Samsung Blackjack II while Rachel decided she liked a red LG Shine. It was very interesting to go through this process again. We haven’t been officially on a cell phone plan for 4 years. While researching how much this would cost us upfront, the difference in how much and where was astounding.
On the AT&T Premier website (dedicated to business & enterprise): For the mentioned phones, we were looking at about $325.00 in up front costs. We would receive a $50 mail in rebate in the form of a debit card.
For the same phones at Best Buy, $50! I’m not kidding. I was blown away. The only difference is that we had to set up our IU discount separately, which just took a phone call.
We painted our bedroom finally, it’s a nice yellow hue. When mentioning it to people I tell them that the color is what you would get if you mixed yellow and brown mustard. It looks real nice, now onto the curtains. Hopefully they will be nice.
I will be starting school next week. I am entering the CIT (computer information technology) program at Ivy Tech. Within a few years, I should have a degree in a field I love, which can hopefully help me attain some real employment.
Lately I have been pre-occupied with many things, which have diverted my attention away from accomplishing a single task. So I’m going to merely list some updates as to what’s been going on since I last posted.
Hope is in sight: My truck is still broken. We got a deal on a complete fuel pump assembly on eBay. It’s brand new and OEM, so I’m not too concerned about it working. Last Saturday I tried to install it, but this job is meant for someone who either works on vehicles all the time, or has power tools. Since I am neither, I couldn’t do the job. My dad called last night and my step-uncle agreed to do it for me. My dad is having it towed to his house today and I anticipate it being completed before any bad snowfalls occur.
Family Memories: My mother-in-law gave us some priceless family photos to scan into the computer. Some dating back to 1906! I’m not sure if she knew it, but many of these “old” photos were actually scanned and printed out by someone already. Who that is I don’t know. Some of these pictures need some help, as they have cracks on them or have pieces ripped off. I hope to sharpen up my photoshop skillz and fix ’em.
There are several “cards” which I find quite moving. They are what I would call “death memorial” cards. They were given out (by the church?) when someone died. My wifes’ family is from Dubois county, which is rich with German heritage. This card is written in German and Latin. I find the artwork on the back quite moving. What do you think?
Music, Music, Music: I finally caved and bought an iPod. I refuse to pay retail for one, so I went second hand on eBay. I got a nice 30gb model, which is big enough for what I need. I didn’t buy this iPod for personal entertainment, but to convert all of our CD’s into electronic media. This way we can get rid of the enormous space they take up. Once everything is done, we’re going to put them into storage.
I have imported them all into iTunes and discovered one interesting thing. CD’s over time, with scratches and other defects can sound like old LP’s. Some of the tracks I have imported have that “scratchy” sound made infamous by LP’s. Now I have a monumental task of going through roughly 2500 songs and re-importing the ones whose quality doesn’t meet my standards…ugh
Almost a decade ago, I became a father, a father to a beautiful baby girl. How can I raise a child when I’m just a kid myself?
Many things change in almost a decade. Your mother and I have since went our seperate ways, but the seperation has added two families who love you even more. Instead of having 1 mommy and 1 daddy, you have 2 of them.
3rd grade was a tough year for me, I hope it’s a good year for you. I got a burr haircut, I hope we don’t have to go through anymore hair dramas with you.
We discovered a shared interest recently, golf. We had such fun at the driving range, hitting golf balls. I hope this is something we can do for years to come, and I’m on the hunt for a golf club set made just for you.
I hope you know that daddy and Rachel will always be here for you, and you will always have a place to call your own with us.
I hope you enjoy your birthday present this year, a complete room makeover. We are painting your room pink, giving you a new door and closet door. New trim painted white with pictures on your walls make it complete. Your room will be the first room complete in our home.
It’s amazing what almost a decade can do, and now I’m starting to feel old.
