"MY POPPER"

by Lorraine

First, I must clarify - I demanded extra space in this book for Louise, Harley and myself to write about "Our Father." This will relinquish Dad of all responsibility for good or bad. I must also say you can't write about Dad without writing about Mother too. They both are guilty of raising us. I used to describe Dad as short, fat, bald and cute woodchopper. Well, he's lost so much weight and still has a little fuzz on his head so my description is quite unfair today.

I also have said that Dad looked old at forty but nearly three decades later according to his pictures he still looks the same as he did at forty. (Almost)

When growing up, I had fourteen uncles. Quite an honor I felt, and I had my favorites but never in a life time have I ever wished for any father other than my own dear "Popper."

I know him well - his virtues and faults. I suppose my mother has put up with him because his virtues outweigh his faults though sometimes it is hard to tell the difference. He was a progressive thinker - usually ahead of his time. He has really contributed to this town: with school boards, land developing, pallet factory, city council, etc. I am so proud of him.

As a little child the neighbor girls and I decided Dad would make a good

president of the United States. We weren't at all naive.

I remember him spanking me once when I was four years old - that was probably the first and last time. Spankings weren't needed. He would poke my shoulder with his finger and that was worse than any spanking. I hated it! (I still do.) Dad thinks it's funny. Dad is a notorious joke teller. He remembers them all and tells them well - a real artist. (Some of his grandchildren are following in his steps)

He could take every child in the neighborhood and stretch their wrist and convince them our bones come apart. (I'm still convinced) I set his hair (when he had some) when I was little. I walked many miles on the top of his feet. I don't know who started that silly idea but I had a monopoly on the top of those feet.

He'd stick his finger through a hole in the bottom of a match stick box - pour ketchup around the finger and show it to the children (of course). His poor cut-off finger. YUK!!

I only ate oranges because he peeled them for me. I only ate apples because he cut them up for me. (He still does and for his grandchildren too.)

He took us all over the U.S. of America on vacations. He's a historical nut. It's hard to argue with someone who knows his facts, but I still love to debate with him and Uncle Don Walton. Dad taught us to appreciate this beautiful country.

Mom, I describe as English in the middle-class America. She did most the disciplining. She taught us the usual: proper table manners, don't pick your nose or scratch your bottom in public type.

The table was set properly, we ate as a family together. She never missed sending birthday cards and thank you notes to the right people. I have to tell about this. We ate hard butter fresh from the refrigerator. We had to slice this off the end. Well, I'm a big toast eater and hated that hard neat butter dish. In my home the butter dish is soft and a mess. I tease Mom about this. We tell in our family how well Mother has trained Dad and how his children have had a tough time raising him.

One last lighter comment before I go into the deeper side of life. We went down to grandma and grandpa Hendrick's fairly often. Being the baby of the family had it's advantages. The three older children sat in the back. Usually I got up front. My mother was soft as a cushion for sleeping. When we'd get home if I was asleep on my cushion (Mother), I always got a piggy-back ride in the house on Dad. Now, what little girl would ever wake up and forfeit that special ride? Not me!

My practical side knows Dad is human and does have a "few" faults. Some of his faults are his virtues. He's overly generous. He will help and help knowing he may never see the kindness returned. He's helped strangers as well as family and friends.

He's a good, sensitive man and a great grandpa. He's got good morals, doesn't smoke or drink, and loves his family more than anything.

I have always been close to Dad,. dependent upon his love and faith - his moral support. He's nearly always been there when needed - if not in person then by phone. He does listen though the men at the mill may doubt my description of this

kind, gently loving man. That's how I perceive him.

I was twenty five years old before I knew my father had a temper. Everyone knew but me. I should explain, his temper consist of yelling a little, swearing a bit, he's totally non-violent.

Mom's influence helped us become mature responsible adults. She attempted to instill in us an independence (strength) which would take us through life's ups and downs, and we have all had a few.

When the going gets rough Mom's been a real stabilizer at times. Mom and Dad both are sensitive, caring people. I suppose that is why we've hurt each other at times, but it is these same feelings that help us to forgive and unite us as a family.

I know Dad is going to want to edit this but he can't because that's my job.

I love you both and hope you live a long long time because I can't imagine life without my "Mother and Popper."

The Youngest,

Lorraine

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