My Grandfather

Since I'm doing sentimental posts, I thought I'd add this short essay my Aunt Cindy wrote about my grandfather. While my grandfather was far far far from a perfect man, this shows that you don't have to be a perfect parent to teach important lessons to your children(and maybe grandchildren).


Ten Things I Learned From My Father
By
Cindy Eicher

1. Use what you have.
Daddy was always making or fixing things with what he had in his workshop rather than buying something new. His workshop was stuffed with pieces of things he had saved in case they could be used to fix something else. He never threw anything away! That made for an interesting but disorderly workshop! When we were really little and lived in Wydner, his shop was the second floor of the barn! He had these tiny soldier figures we could play with. He had made them when he was a boy! I wonder how many treasures of this sort are squirreled away somewhere among all his paraphernalia.
I never remember my dad wandering around stores looking at new equipment or squandering money on tools and gadgets he would use someday. He always just used the tools he had.
Some of the ways he would fix things were embarrassing to us as children: a brown piece on a white surface, a piece of metal covering a part of something made of wood. His way of thinking and the lesson I learned was not to buy it new if you could manage with something you already had.

2. Be honest.
Daddy was an honest man. He didn't fudge on his income tax. He took a cut in his social security (meager as it is compared to some people) because he wanted to keep working.
I never remember my dad lying; and if we were dishonest, it made him very angry. Honesty was a lesson some of us had to learn the hard way-with the help of his paddle! He wasn't expecting anything of us that he didn't do himself! He taught us honesty by example.
3. Love your work.
Daddy should not have been working on roofs when he was seventy-five, but who could keep him off them?
"What if something happens and you fall off?" Mommy would say.
"Then at least I'll die happy, doing what I want!" Daddy would reply.
Daddy put in a hard day's work and took pride in what he did. When we were little children, he would take the family for rides to show us houses he had worked on. The siding on this one, the painting on another one, Daddy was proud of the job he did. These houses were usually beautiful two or three story homes that looked like mansions to us. I remember that I was proud of my dad that he worked on such spectacular houses.
4. Plant a garden.
When we lived in Hellertown, my dad had a wonderful vegetable garden. There were tomatoes, peppers, green beans, onions, red beets, and more! I remember the fragrance of warm earth, tomato plants, and the incredible taste of tomatoes right off the stalk.
Then there were the sandwiches he made using all those fresh vegetables! They were loaded with grated carrots and red beets, juicy tomatoes and tangy onions, and fresh lettuce.
Each of us kids had a small garden where we could grow flowers: asters, four-o'clocks, zinnias, and marigolds. We planted the seeds and waited for the little sprouts to make their appearance. We watered and weeded and watched for the colorful blooms. Every week Daddy walked the slate pathway through the little gardens checking to see our progress. Had we weeded and watered our plants? I know this is where my love for gardening began!
5. Eat your vegetables!
Daddy's law: two vegetables at every meal and one of them must be green! That was fine, unless one of them was peas! I hated peas. There was no way out of eating them except subterfuge, but we won't go into that in order to protect the guilty parties.
Daddy always showed us his arm muscles which he said were the result of his eating all his vegetables. They were well-rounded mounds that flexed impressively. I remember thinking that Daddy must be related to the real Pop-Eye the Sailor Man. Daddy was strong. He had a wicked swing when he played "hit-the-ball-around-the-pole" with you. He never seemed to get sick. I don't remember my dad ever being home nursing a cold, sneezing or coughing. According to my dad, all this can be credited to his faithful consumption of vegetables.
6. Keep your promises
I don't remember Daddy making us many promises, but there are some that I know he made and faithfully kept. The first was his marriage vow. We just celebrated my parent's fiftieth anniversary. Those fifty years were not easy. You can lay blame wherever you want. The fact is that my parents are still together, and that says something amazing about both of them.
Another promise my dad made was to bring us up in the Catholic Church. In order to marry Mommy with the blessing of the Church, Daddy had to make that promise. Some men might have taken that promise lightly or left the religious training of their children up to their wife. Here again, Daddy's word was as good as gold. He drove us to church, sent us to Catholic school, and attended our first communions and confirmations. He gave me the lovely scented bouquets to carry in the May and October processions at St.Theresa's Church. Mommy and he would come to see us in our lovely white dresses walking nervously in the long straight lines of the procession around the church. I remember how important it was to find where my parents were seated. I would always feel calmer when my eyes settled on their familiar faces. Daddy did carpentry work at St. Theresa's in order to pay our books and tuition. My religious training in those early years made an indelible impression on me. So did my father's example.
7. Jesus is our friend.
Daddy used to hum and sing "What a friend We Have In Jesus." He plunked it out on the piano and told me it was his favorite song. In all my years at Catholic school, I never heard of Jesus being a friend. He was the Son of God and not directly approachable. I never quite understood how Jesus's death on the cross fit into the religious picture. The concept of his love for us was not emphasized in church, at least not enough for me to understand. Daddy's view of Jesus was a new concept that I would come to embrace as my own later.
8. Be sure to relax.
On Sunday Daddy did no work. After work each day, he would sit in his chair with a drink and his pipe, still smelling of roof tar and sweat. There were things needing attention around the house, but the need to be off his feet and enjoy relaxation was sacred. Most of us did not appreciate this as children, but as an adult, I certainly understand it now. We need to relax and take time for ourselves. There was the untouched newspaper to be read, a drink to consume, and of course, there was his pipe to smoke. With seven children, a wife, and house full of repairs to be done, blowing smoke rings was a necessary release.
9. Don't be so scared.
I was always scared about lots of things: big things like the end of the world or air raid drills and little things like giving a speech in class or someone teasing me. One time when I was worrying about something, Daddy said, "Don't worry so much! Nine out of the ten things you're worrying about won't ever happen; and the one that does, won't be nearly as bad as you think it will." He was right! At fifty years of age, I still battle the "scaredy-cat" inside me, but remembering his words helps.
10. No matter how tough things get, you keep trying.
When Daddy was hospitalized after the fire in a house he was working on, he pushed himself back to work. It was the same story after he fell off a three-story roof, breaking his pelvis and ankles. A lesser man would have spent the rest of his working years on disability. Not my dad! He forces the issue of pain everyday. I never hear him moaning about his aches and pains either. If I hadn't asked, I wouldn't know. This has been a powerful example to all of us. None of his children are quitters!
When I was growing up, I foolishly wished for a dad like Robert Young in "Father Knows Best" or Fred MacMurray in "My Three Sons" I thought a dad should sit calmly in a plaid easy chair wearing a v-neck cardigan and slacks, smile a lot, and leave for work dressed in a suit. My dad wore a blue chambray shirt and blue jeans everyday but Sunday. I remember his smile, but his advice was often given in a loud voice with no smile on his face. Our family could not solve problems in a half hour. My daddy certainly didn't fit the fifties' television sit-com father mold, but he taught us by example to be honest, hard-working people. Having children of my own, I realize now how hard it is to be a parent. Only God is the perfect parent! In his wisdom, He allowed me to have Alan C. Fox as my dad. How thankful I am for what he has meant in my life!