Things My Father Taught Me

My brother, Alfred, my step-son, Lando, Wilbert Spain, SR, and Me

  It's amazing how a simple thought can spur an avalanche of of memories long forgotten. This very thing occurred while I was making breakfast this morning.  I began to reminisce about when I used to take my morning walks through the neighborhood when I lived in Augusta, Georgia a few years ago. There was a portion of my trek which had a rather steep hill.  As one approaches the hill it can seem somewhat intimidating. On some mornings I easily traversed the paved incline; however, this particular morning the climb appeared to have an increased gravitational pull on my body.  As I gird up my loins I tenderly recalled a time when I was very young and I was walking with my father on Fort Bragg, North Carolina. We were scaling a grassy hill, (where we were going, I do not remember), and my father noticed that I was having difficulty keeping up with both his stride and maneuvering the hill. "Boy, you have to walk heel-toe, heel toe", he said in his familiar gruff voice.  I looked at his method of walking and adjusted my own accordingly. The climb actually did become much easier for me.
 

  Occasionally I have spoken about certain situations in regards to growing up with my father in past blogs.  For many years my most prevalent memories were of his boozing, disappearing for days on pay day only to return home drunk and penniless, and the frequent moves my siblings and I were forced to endure because we assumed he had neglected to pay the rent, utilities, or both. (It is only in my own adult years that I neglected to see that he was also faced with the choice of paying the electric bill or feeding his seven motherless children).  I know in my heart that negative situations which we all have endured have served their purpose in creating the foundation of our character. My father's actions, (or inaction), forced changes in our lives that caused us to be strong as children. It forced my oldest brother, Wilbert JR to seek out an early-age enlistment into the Army so as not to become another mouth to feed at the dinner table. It caused my brother, Alfred, to develop the skill of being multi-faceted because he was forced to go to college while working part-time to provide food for us younger siblings when my father was not able. Today he is a supervisor for the Department of Human Services and he rescues at risk children on a daily basis.  My oldest sister, Joyce, was forced to forfeit much of her childhood and become our surrogate mother. What a burden that must have been for her but today she is one of the most tenacious and resourceful women I know.  
 I recall how the twins and I would sit together in the living room and vow to "never let our kids go without Christmas or a telephone in the home or food, electricity, or shelter". We were mere children but we were forced to plan a life of responsibility because of what we, ourselves, had experienced.  And lastly, I know I will never be able to comprehend the loss of my mother as my youngest sister, Cynthia had to endure. It is so sad to know that all my mother is to her is an old photograph and memories passed down by her older siblings. I believe that even today she strives to succeed in order to please her mother.

  There is no situation on this earth that God does not have a hand in; for He is not only the author of all that is good and pleasing and joyous in our life, but He is also involved in the evil and pain and sadness we each experience.   "Let every soul be subject to the higher powers. For there is no power but from God: the powers that are, are ordained by God". Romans 13:1

  My father taught me both what to do and what not to do. In neglecting some of his duties he taught me to be diligent in providing for my family. In his inability to be openly affectionate towards his children he taught me to love my own with an unwavering love. His domestic episodes with my mother taught me and my brothers that we are to love our women hard. Before my father passed away in 1998 from cancer I was able to hug him and tell him that he truly was a great father and that I will always respect him. 

  Message: It's time out for us to still be crying over our past disappointments in life; but rather, it it high time that we  recognize how the "fires" which we were made to endure have made us stronger, wiser, and so much better.
 Who's to say what is good and what is bad; what is right and what is wrong? Only God can judge for only He sees the full picture. I love you, Dad.  

 I love you all.

 Dennis