Things my dad taught me...some of them, anyway

One of my early memories was decorating for Christmas; it could have been 1958 give or take a year. The tree was up and Dad had put on the first string of lights…when he plugged them in and they lit up, it seemed magical to me. Another string was on the floor and I noticed it had a plug on one end and an outlet on the other; so I plugged the string into itself. Dad could tell I was disappointed when nothing happened. He explained the lights had to be plugged into the wall outlet to work (and I’m sure a safety warning followed; I might have been told to let him do that).

Among other interests, dad was a “ham” radio operator, and over the years he taught me much about electronics and radio. I have good memories of learning to solder wires together and working with him putting together Heathkit radios and power supplies at his workbench in the basement.

That reminds me. Dad had a dry sense of humor; he was a quiet guy and seemed a bit serious. Once in a while though he’d throw in some totally unexpected comment and crack us up. He could be a tease at times, and he could also walk into a room without making a sound. If he ever saw me plugging a lamp or something into an outlet, he’d suddenly make a loud “ZZZT!” sound to startle me, then he’d chuckle to himself and leave the room.

And when we lived in “the old house”, there was a utility room where the washer / dryer was. Over half way up the wall was a nail that stuck out an inch or so, at an angle. I’m not sure now what they would hang on that, but one day when I was maybe five he brought me into that room and pointed to the nail.

Dad: “Do you see that nail?”
Me: “Yes.”
Dad: “Don’t touch it. It’s the only thing holding the house together, and if it ever comes out, the whole house will fall down.”

From then on until we moved, every so often I’d think of that and slowly, carefully look through the utility room doorway to see if the nail was still there. In fact, I don’t recall actually going into that room again.

Dad had some fun comments about food. Back then the only condiment I liked was catsup, but dad would use mustard, because…

“Mustard kills the germs”.

And when people started talking so much about vitamins – in the 1970’s, I think – one day for fun he said “Chocolate cake has vitamin C”. C for chocolate, I guess.

He also said once that if he knew for certain that the world would end tomorrow, he would eat an entire chocolate cake with chocolate icing.

Dad taught me to enjoy shooting off fireworks, by being careful, following the instructions, and by not doing anything stupid.

Dad taught me to shoot paper targets with a rifle, by being careful, following the instructions, and by not doing anything stupid.

Dad taught me to drive safely, by being careful, by following the rules, and by not doing anything stupid.

I’m detecting a pattern here.

(And before I get too far from the subject of driving, after I got my license and anytime I would open the door to go out, dad would give me the same advice...

"Try desperately hard not to get run over".)

Now, I was way too young at the time to have any memory of this, but I’ve been told that when I was a toddler I’d reach for everything with my left hand. Knowing that this is a “right-handed world” (and remembering the story that his dad had taken a Whole lot of abuse in school for being a lefty), he would take things from my left hand and hand them back to my right hand.

Dad partially succeeded; I’m mixed-handed. I write and use eating utensils and do many things with my right hand. There are other things I only do left-handed; dealing cards and using tape dispensers, for two examples.

Mom was the singer in our family. While dad enjoyed music, he’d beg off of singing by saying “I only know two tunes. One of them is Yankee Doodle, and the other one isn’t”. I thought for years that he’d made that up, until I found out he was quoting Ulysses S. Grant.

I’ve mentioned before that my dad was a pilot, and he had a lot of interesting stories to tell. For a lot of years he flew the Constellation for TWA. We got on the subject of bad weather one day, and he told of being in the plane at one end of a runway in Kentucky, and watching a tornado cross the other end of the runway.

Another time, he got ball lightning in his plane. It came in the cabin somehow, and rolled down (floated along?) the center aisle back the entire length of the plane. He said it was round, about the size of his fist, and glowed like a night light. He turned and watched people stare at the ball lightning as it rolled past. He said one man started to reach out towards it, then it was obvious the man changed his mind when he pulled his hand back. The ball lightning got to the end of the aisle and disappeared.

(The rest of the story…years later I picked up and read some stories in a Reader’s Digest book, which had a title something like “Mysterious Stories of the Unexplained”. One of them involved an airline flight, and though dad’s name wasn’t mentioned, the story was so much the same as dad told it, that I think it was the same event. Apparently one of the passengers was motivated to write and submit his story.)

Dad developed his interest in aviation as a boy, when he’d go to air shows that his dad and his uncle Avery were involved in (they barnstormed for a while). Dad told me that at one of these shows there was a man who had a daredevil act. I’m not certain now of the man’s last name, but I think it was Davis, or something close to that (and yes, one of the big regrets of my life was that I didn’t get and turn on my tape recorder so I could hear these stories over and over).

Anyway, “Batman Davis” wore a bat costume and a parachute, and would climb into a hot air balloon. This wasn’t like the balloons today with the propane tanks and burner on board. The balloon was filled with hot air on the ground while it was tethered; once airborne when the air cooled or was let out, it was time to come down. “Batman Davis” would take off in the balloon and go up pretty high, but not out of sight of the crowd. He then would jump out, clear the balloon, and pull the cord to parachute to a safe landing. Dad said the balloon had counterweights sewn into the top of the envelope so that each time when the “Batman” would jump, the balloon would tip over, and the hot air would spill out so the balloon would land nearby. The way dad described it, this must have been quite a show.

I’ve got to tell you I really enjoyed writing this for Father’s Day. Dad was a very smart man and taught me many practical things. Dad, I thank you for the learning, for learning to appreciate your dry humor, for all the good times, and for all the stories. I only wish I had asked to hear more of them.