When Dad went into business for himself as a house and sign painter, he took me along and taught me how prepare a surface for paint, pull a strait line with a brush and even let me take credit for signs that he painted and I sold and kept the money. One of those painting jobs was to paint the bleachers at the local Rodeo Grounds for the big 4th of July celebration, he surprised me when he called me over and handed me the keys to the pickup. “Go get us both a pack of cigarettes”, he said and I won’t tell your mother that you have been smoking hers. Although he knew that I had never driven a car he trusted me to drive his pick up and I’m sure he held his breath until I returned.
As a teen like many young boys I was prone to getting into trouble, and as the years went by Dad would tell me of some of the foolish things I did, witch I thought were life long secrets. When I stole chickens form our own coup he never said a word but silently laughed about it, when I would come home intoxicated he would see that I got into bed without my mother finding out.
The stories dad could tell with so much intensity was like a motion picture running through my mind. I grew up believing his tall tales and still am not sure what was true or fiction but I loved hearing them over and over.
Dad was always an independent soul and did not like working for any one or taking orders so he always relied on self employment. In his later years he bought printing equipment and self taught himself, he continued to run his own printing shop out of the home until his passing.
When my mother passed away, Dad stayed in the home with his print shop and the cats that he loved. I will always miss him and the times we would spend together.
