I didn't realize when I was growing up that my father was unique.Children tend to accept the world they are given without question. It's only when you get around other families that you realize that yours is different.
Dad was a character. I knew he was more handsome and more energetic than most fathers. I knew he was different from a lot of 1960's dads in that he liked to play with his kids. He came to the roller skating rink and skated, unlike the dads who just dropped the kids off on Saturdays. Dad got into the pool and swam with us. He built a go-kart once and gave all the kids in the neighborhood rides.
My cousin Tony told me recently that his favorite memory of my dad was watching him water ski with a cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth, holding a beer. At the end of the run, Dad would ski into the soft mud of the lake bank and step out of his skis, still holding his beer.
Of course, nowadays parents would never do anything so politically incorrect in front of their kids. But it was the 1970's. (My brother and I never tried to duplicate that stunt, BTW.)
It didn't occur to me until after he died that Dad had a unique language.
When he died, we had dad cremated, and we had a memorial service at St. Paul's, but we postponed scattering the ashes.
The day we scattered the ashes it was just me and Bruce. It was the day after Thanksgiving, 1997, more than a year after Dad had died. We went out to the country and scattered his ashes in a swiftly moving stream on some land owned by one of Dad's friends.
When we were walking over to the stream, Bruce and I started reminiscing about Dad and the funny stuff he used to say. You have to remember Dad grew up in a tiny town in Georgia in the 1930's and 40's, Hepzibah, just down the road from Augusta.
"If that ain't good, grits ain't groceries." This was classic Dad. He knew Mom didn't like him to use the word "ain't" and so he did it to be a wiseass. This was a compliment of the highest order, usually said about something he ate, like country ham or barbeque - two of his favorites.
"Cat's ass is all right." This was an expression of disgust. He would ask me or Bruce a question and we would, in the manner of kids, shrug and say "It was all right." As in: "How was the show?" / "It was all right," we would reply. Then he would frown and say "Cat's ass is all right." We never figured out where he heard this, or if he just came up with it on his own.
"You and me are gonna get down on the lick log." Another mysterious expression. This was the same as "You and me are going to have a come-to-Jesus meeting." It meant he had to talk to us about something serious. I think we asked my uncles once if they knew where Dad got that "lick log" expression and they were both mystified by it.
"If you're waiting on me, you're backing up." Dad hated to be late, and he didn't like other people to be late, especially when their lateness inconvenienced him. When somebody who worked for him was late he got really ticked.
"I never let the weather make my decisions for me." I think in all of his 35 year banking career he never missed work due to weather except once. It had snowed heavily during the night. He literally couldn't get his car out of the driveway, but he went trudging off, despite Mother telling him it was a waste of time.
"Boots and saddles! We're burning daylight!" This was what he always said when he flung the door to my room open and flipped on the lights in the morning. I never thought to ask him what it actually meant. I think it was something he had heard in a John Wayne movie. [He loved John Wayne and could quote all the lines in his favorite movies, which he watched multiple times.]
"I wish I could call my mama tonight." This was said in his later years, usually after he'd had a drink or two. The late great Bear Bryant had done some commercials for the phone company in the 1970's or 80's and he would intone "wish I could call my mama tonight" - and Dad adopted that phrase. He wasn't being funny. His mother died when Dad was 28, and he grieved for the rest of his life.
"Only my wash-woman knew how scared I was." I think the implication here is obvious. I asked him about this one when I got old enough. He explained that they had a woman who washed clothes for the family when he was growing up. I said "But you always told me y'all were poor." He explained that wash-woman didn't charge much. The family didn't have a washing machine, so clothes had to be boiled in a washtub over a fire, or washed in a tub on a washboard. Wash-women were common in the rural South at that time.
"Thank God and Greyhound she/he's gone." This, too, came from a commercial, but Dad loved it. He would say it about people who annoyed him. Sometimes he would sing it.
He would often pop out with a song lyric while walking around the house. Not the entire song, just one line.Over and over. I thought this was unique to Dad until I spent some time with his brothers. They all loved to sing but often didn't know all the words. Bob and Lewis usually knew a lot more of the words, though, and I once heard Bob sing an entire song ["Were you there when they crucified my lord?"]
These were Dad's favorite lines, that I recall:
"Hey bob a re bop." [yes, this was an actual song]
"Another Saturday night and I ain't got nobody." [the awesome Sam Cooke]
"Her mother never told her, the things a young girl should know.." [He actually knew most of this song. Apparently this was popular in 1950's fraternities. I thought Dad had made it up, until I heard one of the lawyers I worked for singing it.]
"Jose Cuervo was a friend of mine."
"Just like old dogs and children, and watermelon wine."
"I'm proud to be an okie from Muscogee."
I asked Dad once what he thought of Elvis. Dad looked horrified. "Your mother and I loved Frank Sinatra. Now HE could sing," he replied, with disgust. Dad was not a fan of rock & roll.
I miss Dad. I think about him every day. There was absolutely no-one in the world like him.
Dad in 1988, at Valley Bank in Knoxville
Dad and his brothers, 1984 or 85
