Dad, who was known as "Fergie", was born in 1911 and died in 1999, spending his entire life in a community that was settled by men and women from Sweden in the latter half of the 19th century. Belief in God, education, and farming were the principles and the principal interests of that community. Dad was a short man who saw himself as someone "who could handle himself". Even as he aged, he didn't change much in appearance. My most frequent mental image of him is of a rocket shaped little man in overalls (usually gray-striped) and a blue work shirt sometimes covered by a sweatshirt that was also tucked inside his overalls. His bald head was covered with an overall cap (also gray=striped), but his clear light blue eyes dominated his entire appearance. Usually he had not only a twinkle in his eyes, but also a little wrinkle in his already upturned nose, and a grin at his mouth. He could light up a room!
In spite of his stature, Dad was usually fearless. Near the end of his life, he told me that he had been a "hot head", losing his temper and picking fights with challengers no matter their size. I had heard stories when I worked in a local coffee shop of my father when he was a freshman in high school. One of the upperclassmen attempted to initiate him by pushing Dad's head into a toilet. Rather than literally face that fate, my father turned the tables somehow, and the result was Dad's chasing a kid twice his size down Main Street in the middle of the schoolday. The story was that people came out of the businesses to watch, curious to see what would happen if Dad caught the kid. I never heard the end of the story - I suppose the older kid escaped into his home somewhere.
The Ladies' Man
My mother used to tell me that women loved my father. She always said it with pride, knowing that the attraction ladies had for him was something he may have enjoyed, but never took very seriously. He was totally devoted to her. Throughout my adulthood when he would mention somebody, he frequently added, "She was an old girlfriend of mine."
Our son lived with his 80+ year-old grandpa for a few months during an internship. One day our son called saying he didn't know where Grandpa was. I told him to check the senior center. He answered, "I hate to go in there - all the ladies are always hugging him."
The Nosy Learner
Given another time and another place, Dad might have been known as an intellect. My aunt called Dad (her brother) a nosy learner. She said, "He's as bad as a gossip, because when he finds out about something new, he has to ask questions and then verify everything." He retained everything he learned. It was always amazing to discover how much he knew. Although he never flaunted his knowledge, he could volunteer information on most topics. His memory was astounding. When he was an elderly man, he would also be asked by visitors where someone had been buried in the local cemetery when a permanent markder was nonexistent. He almost always remembered the funeral and the exact location of the grave. He could describe a bird and whistle its call. He could spell almost any word correctly. He could provide extensive family tree information of almost any family in his community. He spoke Swedish fluently. He knew hundreds of hymns by memory, and often sang them with his beautiful Irish Tenor voice. He knew who visitors and teachers in the community were, including their home towns, parentage, and their particular talents. He knew how the weather worked, including specific dates of weather events of the past. I can't possibly enumerate all that he knew, but he never stopped learning and being interested in learning.
The Burglar
My father lived most of the last years of his life on an acreage along a highway about a mile and a half from the less suburban part of his community. The following is a telephone conversation between my father and me in the summer of 1991:
Hi, Dad. Did you get home okay?
Just fine. But when I got here, I realized somebody had broken into the house.
At least he didn't surprise you inside...
Well, I realized he was still inside.
Well, at least you were outside, then.
I got so mad that I went in after him.
Oh, NO!
After I saw him, I realized that maybe I couldn't "take him." I'm not 40 years old anymore.
Dad, what makes you think you could "take him" when you were even 40?
Well, I kind of bluffed my way into the back bedroom and got my brother's service revolver.
Oh, no. Dad!
Well, it didn't even work.
You mean the one that you had welded shut so my brother and I wouldn't get hurt with it?
Yeah. Anyway, I went back to the kitchen and held it on him so I could call the cops. But my shoulders and arms were too stiff to dial the wall phone and hold the gun at the same time.
Oh, no.
He got away - ran right out of the house.
Good. At least you were clear of him.
Well, there's nothing wrong with my legs, so I chased after him and caught him.
Oh, NO.
I held the gun on him and marched him down the middle of the highway!
Dad....
Then I realized that people driving by didn't know who the bad guy was.
Oh, dear.
Finally, someone from town asked me if I needed help. I told her to go to my house and call the police. I told her the door was open, which is probably kind of funny.
You could have been hurt.
I'm 80 years old. I figured that might be my time as well as any other time. But the sheriff got there soon enough. When he got there, the kid was out of breath.
I'm glad it ended all right.
Well There was something that was kind of odd.
There's more?
They had him empty his pants pockets. It was then I realized he had put on my good overalls! I was really mad about that!
I hope you cooled down some.
Yeah, I said to the sheriff, "It was a mistake to get that gun out, right?" The sheriff said, "You shouldn't have even gone into the house!"
Dad, I'm going to worry about you living there alone now.
Don't worry. I'll either live or die. I'm fine.
He chuckled and I hung up. I told one of my kids about the conversation and added that maybe Grandpa shouldn't be living alone. The answer was, "Why not? It sounds to me like he can take care of himself."
