I have a precious friend who has lived on the Cumberland Plateau her whole life. Her talent and humor and generosity know no bounds. She's a treasure and so is this story she wrote about her father. She writes like she talks - straight from the hip and lip and with lots of heart. It's good stuff.

Thanks, Jana.




Speaking of my handsome Daddy. I went out and spent some time with him in his "shop" today. He is always piddling around down there. I have had an old camel back trunk since I was a kid. It was beat up and old, but I used it in my room. It did not have any handles, the inside of the lid had a compartment that had no door and under the tray it was all stained and had peeling paper.

Well, several (many)years ago, Daddy and I decided redo it. Mama bought the paint remover and Daddy put it in the trunk for when I had time to come out and work on it with him. That day never came. Mama mentioned it one day and I thought, now Daddy is not able to work on it. I guess I will just take it home. The first thing I noticed was the handle on the side....I asked Daddy if he had put the handle on it and he said "oh, yes. I have worked on it some", he opened it to show me that he had rebuilt the closeable compartment in the lid. It worked perfectly and he had even put new fasteners on it. He had put a leather strap on the inside tray so that one could lift it out easier. The inside was spotless. My part (the paint remover) was still sitting there, waiting to be used. It was indeed ready enough for me to take it home and work on the outsides. Now go get your kleenex....

I was thinking about my daddy. If you look at my profile picture you will see what a strikingly handsome man he was (is). I was his shadow, barely a step did he make that I wasn't right there under his feet. He was patient with me, always answered my millions of questions thoughtfully. If he did not know the answer, he would speculate, " Well, this could be a ........or a....." He never made me feel like I was a pest....though I am sure I was. Sure he has whipped me several times (usually for smart mouthing Mama) but he never let me go to bed without telling me that he loved me.

When I was little I drove the old pickup sitting on his lap. I counted cows with him. I would go into town with him and my Gandy and listen to them chat while they rolled cigarettes. Every single animal on the place real or stuffed had a name, a voice, and a personality. He built our playhouse, he fixed my dolls, he bandaged my toes when I smashed them on an old car and would sing ballads to me in the evenings as I sat on his lap and rubbed his stubbly five o'clock shadow. When we were older, he would read to us. Usually the Bible and usually Revelation...which of course scared the bejeebers out of us. And now, even though I dropped the ball on my part of a project we had planned to do together he held up his end . No telling how long the trunk had been finished. HE never said a word.

We piddled around his shop putting away some windows I had brought him. I walked through the shop that had once been a commercial chicken house and looked at the massive stack of old boards he had laid neatly on shelves, old pieces of tin he had salvaged " just in case he needed it". From the rafters hung the first pair of boots he ever bought in Tennessee.....he was saving them for the leather.......he could make hinges out of them. Every single thing had a place and everything was in it's place. Every corner square and every shelf was level. And today this sweet little man could not even raise his head up straight enough to see what was on the top shelf.

His temper flares a lot these days. He and Mama go at it like cats and dogs. She has to get out of the house sometimes to keep from hitting him on the head with the TV remote that he can no longer figure out how to use. He goes to bed in the wee morning hours, sleeps til noon, takes three hours to bathe and complains about everything Mama fixes to eat. There are certain foods and juices that he has to have on certain days and keeps a glass of water handy at all times. Once he told us to just put him away in the nursing home and forget him, I told him we couldn't. They would kick his hind end out by the fourth day because he is so spoiled rotten.

He cannot hear well and has a hard time processing what is being said to him. He has quit talking on the phone to ANYONE and watches the same movies over and over and over with closed caption on and the volume up as loud as it will go. Somewhere in the middle of all the chaos that has gone on in his aging years, he found time to fix my trunk.

Mama said this morning she heard him talking to himself, "Now our kids are Donald Ray, Jana LaVerne and Lia Rochelle." At the breakfast table he asked her,
"Now Cheryl (my oldest cousin on his side) is ours?"
"No Donald, Cheryl is not ours."
"Well who was that was here last night?"
"That was Jana." she said he stared blankly into space.
After that she had to go through the family tree explaining to him who his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren are. He kept confusing reality with a home movie that was made when my cousin came to visit one summer back in the 60's.

I am a notorious Daddy's girl, always have been and always will be. He showed me how to use my imagination, how to figure things out and to have a tender heart toward all animals (except one or two cows he couldn't stand). It breaks my heart to see him angry, confused and bent over. He can , however, still tell the same hilarious childhood stories. He can recite lines from a play he was in when he was six. He can talk in detail about when he was three, his younger brother was floating face down in the horse tank and then telling his mother "Billy's in the tank.."....but couldn't even put his own family in perspective.

This afternoon he was fine. He had been waiting on me all day to bring some windows and we measured, planned, and moved some things around. A lot of water has passed under the bridge. Lots of good times, but also a lot of bad times...but somewhere in there, he found time to fix my trunk.

Pray for my Mama and Daddy...Please.