[at-l] Sixty Years Ago today

[hopefl@juno.com (Lamar Powell)]

I want to resend something I posted a couple years ago. It is a sort of
tribute to my father. I measure my own personal success of failure
against my Dad. In fact, I measure the whole world by him. For all his
shortcomings, he was always there for us, I loved him dearly. Dad was one
of the several millions who did their part to defend our country. In a
time when doing your part often entailed loosing your life, Dad stood and
was counted. He attempted to enlist on December 8th but the lines were so
long he had to wait. Well this is what I sent before.  Hopeful
*************
This is long and just possibly, but most likely not trail related so feel
free to delete.
I was cleaning my boots and decided to check the condition of an older
pair I have. I'm a pack rat I guess. I got to wondering how many pairs of
boots I've owned and why I get (in the words of my wife) emotionally
attached to them.
There is a larger connection represented by my boots, a connection to a
world within a world, one that I do dearly love. Some time back the
question was asked as to why we love to hike, how we came to love the
woods. I was introduced to the "woods" by my Dad. We used to walk over
our fields and pasture and woods, just to walk over them. He imparted so
much to me that as my years unfold, I am still discovering that I
developed this attitude or that one, because of my father's influence.
When I was in fourth grade, my Dad got me a pair of "combat boots." We
bought many of our work clothes at a dry goods / hardware / feed /
military surplus store in our community. The boots he got me were just
like the ones he wore, some he had brought home from WW2. Mercy how I
loved those boots, I was crushed when I finally out grew them. 
On one of our walks along the creek on our place, I asked him if he wore
those boots in the war. After a pause, he just quietly answered no and
let the subject drop. Most of what I learned about my father's
experiences in WW2, I learned from my mother. Dad would tell funny
stories from his army days but nothing else. My Dad was a combat
engineer. Putting a pontoon bridge across a river, they came under fire.
Many of them went into the frozen river, Dad was one of them. He suffered
terrible frost bite, among other things. It hurt his circulation in his
legs for the rest of his life. Dad told my mother that his rescuers cut
his clothes and boots off of him to keep him from freezing to death
before he was taken to an aid station.
I'm 52 years old and I wonder if there are enough years left to me in
which to grow into the man that my father was. He was best man at my
wedding. I asked him to be best man simply because he was the greatest
man I had ever known. I am very aware of Dad's short comings but the love
he had for his family made us love him back. Love covers a multitude of
sins and shortcomings. I learned so much from his life about how real men
should act. He was honest and forthright. I heard what he said and I
watched him make good on his commitments. He was physically strong. He
would toss us all about when he wrestled with us boys but when his arm
was around my shoulders, I felt tenderness. He couldn't sing worth a
flip, I know because I sat beside him in church. He was dedicated to his
family and his financial responsibilities. I saw him go to work even when
he was ill. We were not rich by any stretch but we had enough. Dad farmed
and worked a job and every week he gave his whole check to Mom. She gave
some money back to him for his weekly expenses. My father's manliness was
bigger than his pride. Concerning money, Dad taught us that if we
couldn't be happy with little then we couldn't be happy with the whole
world. He once told us, "Don't worry about how you're gonna make ends
meet, worry about where you want'm to meet." 
Dad taught us about ecology years before I even knew there was such a
word. He pointed out a snake in the corner of our tool crib and told me
to leave him alone. He said old Mr. snake was the best rat trap we had on
the place. Once I was helping him peg down the chicken wire fence. I
asked if it wouldn't be easier to kill the fox. "Nope," he replied, "it's
easier to fix the fence. I wont give him any chickens but he can have all
the rabbits in the garden." We had chickens and pigs and calves, we had
varmints like the fox and snake and rabbits. About all these, he told us
to take life judiciously because we could take it, but we could never
give life back again. Before we reached our teenage years all us boys
were excellent marksmen. Dad not only taught us these skills but he
taught us the responsibilities that we had every time we picked up a gun.
I learned to take responsibility for all my actions because I watched my
father take ownership for all of his.
All my boots are cleaned up and put away now. They make me think of so
many lessons for life and bring back many memories. Dad has been gone
since 1970 but I still think of him often. I still remember a pair of
boots I wore to follow his over fields and woods. Thanks Dad.
Hopeful