Today’s blog is dedicated to the memory of my father, Lawrence O. Dean, who died eight years ago today. It does not seem possible that 8 years have passed, yet they have and he is remembered, loved and missed very much.
Dad would love this recent hot, humid weather – you see he liked it warm and although he might mention the humidity, he rarely complained about warm or even hot weather. Now when it got cold, he would bitch just like everyone else but not warm weather, he loved it.
He was somebody who could plant anything and it would grow and he tried many different plants and had success every time. Plus his normal stock aka plants were always the best and he was good about sharing too. Mostly to the local church and elderly neighbors. He loved the land and nothing was more precious to him than land and animals. That's not to say his wife and children were not precious, they were and this was a well known fact, there was never any doubt about his priorities, family first.
OMG did he have gardens – two huge suckers and we got paid a whooping 5 cents a row for weeding. You couldn’t even see the end of a row and this was done for 5 cents! Hell, you were gonna weed it anyway, might as well get paid, right?
When things became ripe, the entire family was involved in gathering the fresh produce. I preferred the picking vs the cleaning and caning, which ins my book was boring as hell. Of course many items went from plant to mouth and never made it into any basket or pot in the house. Fresh picked tomatoes eaten right from the vine is a taste you cannot beat and wish you could have everyday. Yank carrots up, wipe them on your jeans and pop them into your mouth and you understand why rabbits love carrots!
Yes, Dad was a wonderful man, devoted husband, loving father and loyal friend. He taught his seven children many wonderful lessons and when we did something so simple and easy that we puffed up proud as peacocks he would say, with tongue in cheek; "Yup, ya done good." It was like saying any moron could do what you did, don't get a big head, fool!
Dad had a sense of fairness about him too...discipline was fairly dispensed and he didn't mind yelling at any one of us if the need called for him to yell. Yet he's sing to his damn cows -- ya, he did have a lovely sense of humor!
He loved to go fishing but those trips also meant he'd find some wild berry patch and you'd be picking berries too. He loved to pick berries and the bugs never seemed to bother him, while we were being eaten alive. As mentioned he was a very devoted husband and every spring, as soon as the wild violets popped up, he'd pick a handful for his bride of 66 years. Ya, he was quite a romantic and this was the only woman he cared to impress. Gosh I miss him!
We miss and love you Dad. Rest in peace.
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