It’s kind of strange to start a column like that, but I have been struck with a book I have been reading and I haven’t even finished the first chapter. It’s called “Hillbilly Elegy,” by J.D. Vance. This is the guy the Republicans have chosen to run for Vice President of the United States of America with former President Donald Trump.
Oh don’t worry; I won’t be proselytizing for you to become a Republican. Although that wouldn’t hurt my feelings either. I bought his book because the local library didn’t have any of the books by Bill O’Reilly. O’Reilly’s books are about famous men and women of the past and their contribution to history. His newest book “Confronting the Presidents,” comes out soon and it doesn’t cost anything if I use my library card. The library is my favorite building in our town.
Anyway, back to the book by J.D. Vance. In the book, J.D. describes what it was like for him growing up in poverty of the “Hillbilly” portion of our United States. The fact that his mom was addicted to drugs, as well as most of his friends. He paints a picture of how he overcame all the problems that were part of his life and the challenges he faced. I haven’t read a lot of it yet, as the deadline for submission of my column is strict, and leniency is rare.
What I have read so far struck me that J.D. is a person that remembered just about everything about his past. It is very interesting. It is also a story of man who saw his opportunities and worked hard to make them part of his life. He not only left the poverty and drugs, but each decision he made led him in the right direction to a stronger more secure future.
This is all well and good and I assure you I can see that I will like the book, but it is not what I did with my life. I didn’t grow up in poverty nor did I have a drug-addicted mother or father. I do not think my mother ever took a drink of anything but water. My pop was not one to drink to excess, but he did enjoy his beer. He truly loved his boys but had little to teach us except hard work.
This was not something any of my brothers thought about. We just wanted to have fun. I took a good look at my pop, which I loved with all my might, and decided that alcohol would not be a guiding factor in my life. Oh I made the mistake many times, but alcohol was never something I had to have.
We didn’t live in the biggest house on the block, and to be honest it was usually a house donated by his employers. These are not kept up very well and usually had to take out the farming implements before the beds could be brought in.
I guess I had better describe the title of this little letter to my readers. I was the third child and son of my father. For some reason he took a shine to me. I never noticed this as he could tell me to get the belt for a little humility lesson as the older brothers that I had.
My pop wrote a letter to my mother before he died. It was meant to assure her that she was the only woman for him even if she had to go into a couple of lowly bars to take him home. In this letter, he said I was his favorite. This was not something I yearned for as I could not tell that he ever treated me different than my brothers. They were two years apart and I was born six years after my older brother and six years before my younger brother was born.
I look back and can remember that I was the one he wanted in the front seat of the pickup and the others had to sit in the back. Doesn’t sound like much, but you can see the difference if you ride in the back of a pickup at about 40 mph when the temperature is close to zero.
When I went into the Army, I had an old ’53 Plymouth car. My dad had loaned me the money to buy it the summer before I left home. I told him I would pay him a little every month from my Army pay. When I went home after basic training, my car was gone. He had sold it because I had not made even the smallest payment. I lost all my first pay by being taught not to roll dice from a salty old sergeant.
It was quite a few years after he had gone that I met my bride and we had two wonderful boys and the smartest and most beautiful daughter. I had no other lessons about how to raise a boy or girl. I could only remember the lessons I had learned from my dad. I struggled a little with my daughter because my mother was too sweet to instill anything other than love for her boys. For my daughter, I called upon the most loving female I have ever known. That would be the girl of my life, my sweet Lorraine.
The education I got from my Pop was the hard way. His hard way was his way of telling me not to make a promise I couldn’t keep. In all my assignments, I would be going to a different post. All were out of the country and always many miles from home. I went home three times between going into the Army and his passing and each time I did, I bought a car. When I got home the next time, the car would be gone. No matter how angry I would be, the lessons were never forgotten. These were the lessons of my life.
Next week, if possible, I will give illustrations of how I used those lessons.
God Bless.
