Raymond Joseph Dougherty, Jr
I suppose this is the cathartic advantage of a blog. You see, my Dad would have celebrated his 82nd birthday yesterday. Nearly 20 years ago, he passed away in bed at home.
Dad was raised on a farm on south West Street in Wichita. I really never heard that much about his childhood, only bits and pieces. He was the only son of Raymond and Anna. Poor guy had four sisters! Thankfully, Vern Miller and his brothers were neighbors, so he at least had male friendship close by. He graduated from North High school.
Shortly thereafter, during the Korean war, he joined the US Marine Corps as a drill instructor at Camp Pendleton in California. After a short stint there, he came back to his home town, and became a Sedgwick County Sheriff's officer. He pulled over my mom just to get her phone number. I guess she gave it to him! In fact, on one of their first dates, it ended with them (yes, he and his date, my mom) having two juveniles in the back seat of his personal car being hauled to jail. They came out of the restaurant and he caught them trying to steal his hubcaps. What a memorable date that had to have been!
In 1955, he was approached by a fledgling group trying to get a fire department put together that would service the suburbs of Wichita and the rural areas outside of town. He joined the group with good old Ray Davis at the helm as Chief. Dad quickly became a captain on the department, and he loved his job.
Mom and Dad, unable to have children, eventually adopted a son, and then shortly after 2 more sons..."twins" in fact. (I bracket twins with quotation marks for reasons we'll cover in another post).
Dad not only loved the fire service, but he loved farming. The fire department schedule allowed him to do both. 24 hours on duty followed by 24 hours off in those early days. That left his wife on the farm alone with three sons quite a bit. As we grew older, that turned out to be an advantage.
I remember the pair of John Deere tractors in the field, dust trailing from the black Kansas dirt being turned over by the implements that were attached. Kevin, Mike and I would be under the shade of the hedge row with our babysitters...shade, water, and toy tractors with which we worked our own 'farms'. Those were the days! Being crammed with my brothers into the front seat of the non air conditioned 66 GMC pickup going out into the pasture to check the cattle, I didn't want to get stuck next to Dad because his sweaty elbow would randomly whack me as he shifted that 3 on the column transmission or cranking on the now oversized steering wheel (not powered except with my Dad's massive biceps).
We also had hogs...lots of them...too many of them. Didn't do much for my dating life as I got into high school. Other animal poo stinks. Pig poo STINKS! It gets stuck on your boots, and if you get into your car....there you go. And it's not easy to get out! I didn't really share Dad's love of swine like Kevin did. I've wondered many times since if that disappointed him.
Dad worked hard...he probably had the best work ethic of any man I've ever met. When he got home from the fire station at about 7:30AM, he'd get some breakfast, change his clothes and he was back outside working on tractors, fixing fence, herding animals, mixing feed, getting the lawn mower ready....something. Oh, and telling his sons to hurry up and get our butts out there! There was always something to do on the farm.
I'm glad I had the experience growing up on the farm. There is something about that experience that makes you grow up a little more prepared for life, maturing in ways you wouldn't have otherwise, and appreciating what you have a little more. And Dad passed on to all three of his boys, and later a bunch of grandsons, a tremendous example of a work ethic.
It wasn't all work though. I remember some epic football and baseball games out in the yard with Dad. He was really involved in Scouting with us from the time we were old enough to be Cub scouts. He supported the non farming activities we had, and never complained one time that I ever remember about us being gone for practices and games because there were things that needed done at home.
He loved hanging with his fire department buddies. The families would all go camping together, socializing together, dancing, bowling, vacationing together, and drinking gallons of nasty Old Milwaukee. He was a master griller, and has a grandson that now is getting there quickly himself.
When he retired, he left the farm also and went to the Branson area. Retirement for dad just meant staying busy doing other things. Building a house, a barn, delivering mail, square dancing, helping build White Water in Branson, entertaining friends and family, and doing some work for Silver Dollar City. He was also very active in the church, heading up construction for their building, serving on the board, and doing various other things there.
I didn't know what to do when he told me one day that the docs had diagnosed him with Lou Gehrig's disease. It's a nasty disease, incurable, that basically shuts down your voluntary muscles one by one until you can't breath, eat, or move any more. It was tough seeing my very well built Dad who usually weighed about 210 or so waste away to about 130 pounds and becoming unable to do anything on his own.
He was a good man. Not perfect by any means. He made mistakes, but that taught me it's not the end of the world when as a Dad you make mistakes. It's how you handle them that matters. He loved the Lord, his wife, and his sons. I regret deeply that my dad wasn't able to see his grandsons grow into the awesome men that they are. I wish he knew how much of a part he had to play in them becoming that way. I wish I could remember what his voice sounded like. But we all remember him, with fond memories.
I'd like to think that on his death bed, just before he left us, that when he leaned up (somehow, he wasn't really able to move much at all), extended his hand toward the foot of the bed like he was reaching for something (no one was there)....I'd like to think he was being welcomed home by Jesus.
Happy birthday, Dad! Love, Mark
Dad was raised on a farm on south West Street in Wichita. I really never heard that much about his childhood, only bits and pieces. He was the only son of Raymond and Anna. Poor guy had four sisters! Thankfully, Vern Miller and his brothers were neighbors, so he at least had male friendship close by. He graduated from North High school.
Shortly thereafter, during the Korean war, he joined the US Marine Corps as a drill instructor at Camp Pendleton in California. After a short stint there, he came back to his home town, and became a Sedgwick County Sheriff's officer. He pulled over my mom just to get her phone number. I guess she gave it to him! In fact, on one of their first dates, it ended with them (yes, he and his date, my mom) having two juveniles in the back seat of his personal car being hauled to jail. They came out of the restaurant and he caught them trying to steal his hubcaps. What a memorable date that had to have been!
In 1955, he was approached by a fledgling group trying to get a fire department put together that would service the suburbs of Wichita and the rural areas outside of town. He joined the group with good old Ray Davis at the helm as Chief. Dad quickly became a captain on the department, and he loved his job.
Mom and Dad, unable to have children, eventually adopted a son, and then shortly after 2 more sons..."twins" in fact. (I bracket twins with quotation marks for reasons we'll cover in another post).
Dad not only loved the fire service, but he loved farming. The fire department schedule allowed him to do both. 24 hours on duty followed by 24 hours off in those early days. That left his wife on the farm alone with three sons quite a bit. As we grew older, that turned out to be an advantage.
I remember the pair of John Deere tractors in the field, dust trailing from the black Kansas dirt being turned over by the implements that were attached. Kevin, Mike and I would be under the shade of the hedge row with our babysitters...shade, water, and toy tractors with which we worked our own 'farms'. Those were the days! Being crammed with my brothers into the front seat of the non air conditioned 66 GMC pickup going out into the pasture to check the cattle, I didn't want to get stuck next to Dad because his sweaty elbow would randomly whack me as he shifted that 3 on the column transmission or cranking on the now oversized steering wheel (not powered except with my Dad's massive biceps).
We also had hogs...lots of them...too many of them. Didn't do much for my dating life as I got into high school. Other animal poo stinks. Pig poo STINKS! It gets stuck on your boots, and if you get into your car....there you go. And it's not easy to get out! I didn't really share Dad's love of swine like Kevin did. I've wondered many times since if that disappointed him.
Dad worked hard...he probably had the best work ethic of any man I've ever met. When he got home from the fire station at about 7:30AM, he'd get some breakfast, change his clothes and he was back outside working on tractors, fixing fence, herding animals, mixing feed, getting the lawn mower ready....something. Oh, and telling his sons to hurry up and get our butts out there! There was always something to do on the farm.
I'm glad I had the experience growing up on the farm. There is something about that experience that makes you grow up a little more prepared for life, maturing in ways you wouldn't have otherwise, and appreciating what you have a little more. And Dad passed on to all three of his boys, and later a bunch of grandsons, a tremendous example of a work ethic.
It wasn't all work though. I remember some epic football and baseball games out in the yard with Dad. He was really involved in Scouting with us from the time we were old enough to be Cub scouts. He supported the non farming activities we had, and never complained one time that I ever remember about us being gone for practices and games because there were things that needed done at home.
He loved hanging with his fire department buddies. The families would all go camping together, socializing together, dancing, bowling, vacationing together, and drinking gallons of nasty Old Milwaukee. He was a master griller, and has a grandson that now is getting there quickly himself.
When he retired, he left the farm also and went to the Branson area. Retirement for dad just meant staying busy doing other things. Building a house, a barn, delivering mail, square dancing, helping build White Water in Branson, entertaining friends and family, and doing some work for Silver Dollar City. He was also very active in the church, heading up construction for their building, serving on the board, and doing various other things there.
I didn't know what to do when he told me one day that the docs had diagnosed him with Lou Gehrig's disease. It's a nasty disease, incurable, that basically shuts down your voluntary muscles one by one until you can't breath, eat, or move any more. It was tough seeing my very well built Dad who usually weighed about 210 or so waste away to about 130 pounds and becoming unable to do anything on his own.
He was a good man. Not perfect by any means. He made mistakes, but that taught me it's not the end of the world when as a Dad you make mistakes. It's how you handle them that matters. He loved the Lord, his wife, and his sons. I regret deeply that my dad wasn't able to see his grandsons grow into the awesome men that they are. I wish he knew how much of a part he had to play in them becoming that way. I wish I could remember what his voice sounded like. But we all remember him, with fond memories.
I'd like to think that on his death bed, just before he left us, that when he leaned up (somehow, he wasn't really able to move much at all), extended his hand toward the foot of the bed like he was reaching for something (no one was there)....I'd like to think he was being welcomed home by Jesus.
Happy birthday, Dad! Love, Mark
Mark-
ReplyDeleteYou Dougherty boys had a good man to follow in your Dad as did the rest of us. I have good memories of being around him growing up. Happy Birthday Ray!
-Tom
I enjoyed reading this ... I remember you and your brothers coming into my dads shop in the summer for parts. I think i distinctly remember him grabbing Mike by the ear one time. :)
ReplyDeleteThis made me remember my dad also - thank you.
Karen C
Mark - I enjoyed reading your birthday message to your dad. It brought back a flood of memories growing up around him at the fire station. I remember mostly what a great and loyal friend he was to my dad. Happy Birthday Ray!
ReplyDelete-Janet I