I had the good fortune to
have my Dad around me throughout my entire young life and even into
adulthood. When he passed away all of my
kids had already been born, so he was able to see and know his grand children. That was also true with my brother and sisters;
they had all grown up and had children of their own and Dad was able to see and
know them all.
I write that because I
believe that is a blessing that many people are not given. It was a blessing for him to live long enough
to see his family flourish; it was a blessing for us because we were able to
learn valuable lessons of life just from being around him. His was a generation that seems decidedly
different from the upcoming generation.
There was glitziness in his generation, of course, but I am not so sure
it was as magnified and self-centered as much as it seems to be today.
Having lived through the
"great depression" identified with the crash of the stock market in
1929, Dad knew what it meant to "live by the sweat of his brow" and
work long, hard hours to provide for himself and his family. His generation had been dealt a hand that
really held no personal, individual power that would result in vast
winnings. His world was changing fast
through the industrial revolution, horseless buggy, flight through the air,
electricity, automation, explosion of energy through oil and the beginning of
modernization. Radio had come into its
own, communication had shrunk the world in a way that gave him more information
more quickly than his Dad had enjoyed.
But just as he and millions of other Dads across the country had managed
to stand ready to take a toddling step, tragedy struck at Pearl Harbor.
Uncle Sam made the call
and tens of thousands of men just like my Dad ran to get the job done that
needed to be done. Later in our history,
this generation was to be called, "The Greatest Generation." I think those "knock-out" years
that leathered the skins of those men having survived the depression and the
World War created within them a sense of responsibility that had its foundation
firmly planted on honor, character, morality, solidarity of trust and a sense
of passing those values on to their children.
That is what I witnessed growing up under his tutelage.
We were poor, but my Dad
worked every day. His consistency was
rock-solid, always working, doing the job he had been trained to do and
sticking with it to complete a "career." From my earliest age I can remember being
taught the value of work. His
advice: "Do not do just what is
expected by your boss, do much more than that and exceed your boss's
expectation." He thought that was
the code to live and work by and it would always make things better than what
you expected. I believe it was good
advice.
Values that focused on
family, spiritual matters, hard work, telling the truth, holding fast to the
principle of your word being your bond, trusting in others to keep their word
and helping others who had needs were presented every day. I remember going with my brother and sisters
door-to-door collecting small bits of change from people for the "Milk and
Ice" fund. We would turn the money
into those in charge to buy those commodities for poor people. Dad and Mom always led the way to worship on
Sunday morning (and in those days Sunday and Wednesday nights too), never just
sending us kids to Sunday School by dropping us off at the door.
My Dad was an average guy,
worked all his life, lived through the depression of the 1930's, fought in the
World War II, raised a family, took care of his elderly parents when the time
came, and lived to see his grandchildren.
He never received any awards that I know of, he was never on television,
he never wrote a book, he was never elected to a high office, he never made enough
money to be termed as "wealthy" and he is not now mentioned in any
history books. All in all however, his
was a life that showed humility, character, a sense of justice, a positive
regard for his neighbors, and a quiet determination to make things better for
his family and his fellow men. I believe
his is a life deserving of honor, and I do.
Jim Killebrew
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