A Good Man is Hard to....Forget
It's been 22 years since he left us. Today would have been his 85th birthday. It's really hard to imagine Dad at that age. He was pretty funny at 62. The sad thing is, without pictures, it's hard for me to picture Dad in my mind at all. I can't remember what his voice sounded like without digging out an old VHS tape and searching for those rare moments where Dad could be heard speaking in the midst of a family Christmas event, one of the boys' early birthday parties, or some other random event caught, unfortunately not forever, on tape.
Memorializing people tends to make them sound better and/or larger than life. I'm sure that such is my case with Dad from time to time. We tend to focus on all of the positive things they did...all of the feel good moments for which we hope we're remembered. Rightfully so. The positives by far outweighed any negatives in my mind...I know he wasn't perfect...he was terribly human like the rest of us. He lost his temper from time to time. Having raised three sons like he did, I sympathize a little with the poor guy. Trying to run a farm while simultaneously holding a full-time position as an officer on a professional fire department with three young sons at the helm on his days at the station....well...let's just say it got pretty ugly sometimes. I remember the day he flattened the hog with a two by four that wouldn't go through the gate, the day he all but got in a fistfight with an Angus bull who head butted his pristine '66 GMC pickup in the pasture, getting impatient with us when we weren't moving fast enough when things needed done, and was short tempered during harvest when the weather wasn't cooperating when the wheat crop was ready to cut...all of these things made him a part of who he was.
Even with all of that, Dad was very active in Scouting with us, all the way through Boy Scouts. He practiced baseball with us from time to time. He was constantly building things for us. He made slingshots, a rocking horse, guns, pinewood derby cars, rockets, leather crafts and so many other things that have escaped my memory. He had the tendency to see something he liked, and instead of running out and buying one, he studied it and said, "I think I can build one of those." One day he drug home one of those old Model T looking Shriner cars like you see in parades. I don't have a clue where in the world he found something like that, but he went to work fixing it all up, finding a Briggs and Stratton engine for it, modifying everything so his sons could run it up and down our long gravel driveway. He even built a mini garage for it. He was a pretty decent welder. Along with all of the farm related work, he had an idea that he would build a minibike for us. I can't remember if he drew plans, or just had an image locked in his mind, but he bought the tubing, created ways to bend it to make a frame; he welded supports, made handlebars, found grips and a twist grip throttle for it, and yes, another fine Briggs and Stratton engine (not sure if an old lawn mower gave it's life for that one), wheels and tires, made a seat, and voila...a minibike for his sons to do stupid things with up and down the driveway. I'm not sure if he was proud or not the day I learned what a 'governor' was...and how to disable it.
He built our house, built sheds, hog barns, poured yards and yards of concrete he mixed himself, ground his own hog feed, fixed his own tractors and farm implements, built fences, raised cattle, hogs, horses, sheep (hated the sheep), dogs (who failed miserably chasing cars, and succeeded greatly in catching them), he grew wheat, milo, sedan grass, alfalfa, soy beans....and I'm sure I'm forgetting something. Oh yeah...he 'built' three sons who he taught to respect authority, respect the flag and country, how to work hard, be respectful to the elderly, to women, and to strangers. He also taught us how to do most of what he did, because it was extremely rare when one of us, if not all of us, were with him when he was involved in any of the above. He was tough to work for at times, but now I'm glad he did. He wanted things done well, right, and in a timely manner. He was always doing something...the thing I learned to never say was, "I'm bored". That typically resulted in me having a garden hoe and a bushel basket in my hands digging up stickers, or an idiot stick in my hand chopping weeds out of the fence line. Silence truly is golden!
He was very busy, but very present. We worked together, played together, vacationed together, and even sometimes relaxed together. He not only expected us to be helpful running the farm, he also expected us to help indoors with whatever Mom needed done...yep, that included, cleaning house, doing dishes, doing laundry, and sometimes even cooking.
It makes me proud when men who worked with Dad comment about him on Facebook. He probably wasn't the perfect officer, but I know he was a good one, and cared deeply for the men he worked with. I'm proud to be able to say positive things about him myself. There are still many times when I wish I could pick up the phone and call Dad to get his advice, or ask him how to fix something. I wonder how far he'd deal with a smart phone. I wish he could have seen his grandsons grow into the amazing men they've become, and to have seen his first great grandson to carry on the Dougherty name. Yep, I miss him. I'm blessed to have been raised by such a man. And I'm also glad that I have the hope of seeing him again one day. Happy birthday, Dad...I love and miss you! You've inspired me to be one of those men who are hard to forget. Thank you. FG
Memorializing people tends to make them sound better and/or larger than life. I'm sure that such is my case with Dad from time to time. We tend to focus on all of the positive things they did...all of the feel good moments for which we hope we're remembered. Rightfully so. The positives by far outweighed any negatives in my mind...I know he wasn't perfect...he was terribly human like the rest of us. He lost his temper from time to time. Having raised three sons like he did, I sympathize a little with the poor guy. Trying to run a farm while simultaneously holding a full-time position as an officer on a professional fire department with three young sons at the helm on his days at the station....well...let's just say it got pretty ugly sometimes. I remember the day he flattened the hog with a two by four that wouldn't go through the gate, the day he all but got in a fistfight with an Angus bull who head butted his pristine '66 GMC pickup in the pasture, getting impatient with us when we weren't moving fast enough when things needed done, and was short tempered during harvest when the weather wasn't cooperating when the wheat crop was ready to cut...all of these things made him a part of who he was.
Even with all of that, Dad was very active in Scouting with us, all the way through Boy Scouts. He practiced baseball with us from time to time. He was constantly building things for us. He made slingshots, a rocking horse, guns, pinewood derby cars, rockets, leather crafts and so many other things that have escaped my memory. He had the tendency to see something he liked, and instead of running out and buying one, he studied it and said, "I think I can build one of those." One day he drug home one of those old Model T looking Shriner cars like you see in parades. I don't have a clue where in the world he found something like that, but he went to work fixing it all up, finding a Briggs and Stratton engine for it, modifying everything so his sons could run it up and down our long gravel driveway. He even built a mini garage for it. He was a pretty decent welder. Along with all of the farm related work, he had an idea that he would build a minibike for us. I can't remember if he drew plans, or just had an image locked in his mind, but he bought the tubing, created ways to bend it to make a frame; he welded supports, made handlebars, found grips and a twist grip throttle for it, and yes, another fine Briggs and Stratton engine (not sure if an old lawn mower gave it's life for that one), wheels and tires, made a seat, and voila...a minibike for his sons to do stupid things with up and down the driveway. I'm not sure if he was proud or not the day I learned what a 'governor' was...and how to disable it.
He built our house, built sheds, hog barns, poured yards and yards of concrete he mixed himself, ground his own hog feed, fixed his own tractors and farm implements, built fences, raised cattle, hogs, horses, sheep (hated the sheep), dogs (who failed miserably chasing cars, and succeeded greatly in catching them), he grew wheat, milo, sedan grass, alfalfa, soy beans....and I'm sure I'm forgetting something. Oh yeah...he 'built' three sons who he taught to respect authority, respect the flag and country, how to work hard, be respectful to the elderly, to women, and to strangers. He also taught us how to do most of what he did, because it was extremely rare when one of us, if not all of us, were with him when he was involved in any of the above. He was tough to work for at times, but now I'm glad he did. He wanted things done well, right, and in a timely manner. He was always doing something...the thing I learned to never say was, "I'm bored". That typically resulted in me having a garden hoe and a bushel basket in my hands digging up stickers, or an idiot stick in my hand chopping weeds out of the fence line. Silence truly is golden!
He was very busy, but very present. We worked together, played together, vacationed together, and even sometimes relaxed together. He not only expected us to be helpful running the farm, he also expected us to help indoors with whatever Mom needed done...yep, that included, cleaning house, doing dishes, doing laundry, and sometimes even cooking.
It makes me proud when men who worked with Dad comment about him on Facebook. He probably wasn't the perfect officer, but I know he was a good one, and cared deeply for the men he worked with. I'm proud to be able to say positive things about him myself. There are still many times when I wish I could pick up the phone and call Dad to get his advice, or ask him how to fix something. I wonder how far he'd deal with a smart phone. I wish he could have seen his grandsons grow into the amazing men they've become, and to have seen his first great grandson to carry on the Dougherty name. Yep, I miss him. I'm blessed to have been raised by such a man. And I'm also glad that I have the hope of seeing him again one day. Happy birthday, Dad...I love and miss you! You've inspired me to be one of those men who are hard to forget. Thank you. FG
I love the stories you tell about your dad.He's someone I would've loved to have known.He sounds like a dad in one of the tv shows I grew up watching and wished I was part of a family like that.Just beautiful Mark. Thanks for sharing happy memories.Happy Birthday Mr.Dougherty. Thank you for the wonderful legacy you left in your children and grandchildren that I'm blessed to call my friends-Blessings
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