Thoughts Sent Your Way, Pop

Editor’s Note: Dedicated to Argle Pearson who lives in Killeen, TX. He is a World War II veteran and he is my dad.

  Hi, Pop:

  Since you’ve been sick, and unable to talk much, I am sending you this note.

  Been thinking about you today.

  How’s the weather in Texas? Spring coming late here.

  Hard to believe you’re 85. I remember when you came into my life all those years ago.

  It was the mid-sixties. Can you believe that…laugh? I know, it seems so long ago.

  You were a young man then, strong and handsome, thirty-five or so, and you married my mom a couple years after my dad had died when he was only 36.

   I was twelve and the oldest of four brothers and sisters.

  My dad was a marine having served two terms in Korea. You were a bit older, and joined the army at the beginning of World War II. You were only 17, but they were taking any and all able bodies.

  It was politics that brought you and my father together, though.

  You supported my dad in his bid for township committeeman, and he supported you in your quest, as well. Both of you won your elections. It was a happy day.

  In those early days you guys soon became the best of buddies, and had much in common, too.

  Both of you were strong Democrats, Dad was a mailer at the St. Louis Post Dispatch, and you worked at the Ford plant and as I recall, you both loved to drink beer and play cards.

  You got my dad to join the VFW, and at one time you were Illinois State Commander. Patriotism wasn’t just a theme to you and my dad, it was a way of life.

  As I write to you today, Pop, I think back and remember some things and smile.

  Shortly after you married Mom, we moved from St. Louis to Festus on that lovely piece of ground on Plattin Creek out by the Slab.

  Your Tennessee roots had been calling to you for a while, and you finally got to live your dream: own a place in the country where you could grow a garden and have some cattle.

  I was just a sophomore at Crystal City High School then, but it turned into a wonderful adventure for me, those years in the country, and surely has had impact on my life over these many years.

  Remember that huge garden we made? It was a lot of work, but you showed us kids how to grow stuff.

  Remember that cantaloupe you grew back in the 70s? It was so large the local newspaper ran a story and picture.

  I am lucky to have seen that same smile on your face a thousand times over the years

   Man oh man could you grow tomatoes too. Heck, I’m still teaching folks your tricks.

   For years after I left home and went out on my own, wherever I lived along the way, I’d try to find a place where I could plant tomatoes and whatever else I’d have room for.

  Hey Pop, remember the day the Allis Chalmers almost rolled over me? You and I were unhooking the mower from the tractor and it began to roll backwards.

  The tire’s tread caught me at the ankle, knocked me to the ground, and rolled up my leg.

  When I yelled, you raced to the tractor and pushed it off me. I’ve not seen that look on your face since. You were a crazed man, and it was obvious you summoned ever drop of adrenalin to save me that day.

  You and I used to love to squirrel hunt together. Squirrels are your favorite quarry.

  You showed me how to get in between their food source and the trees in which they lived. Never met a better squirrel hunter than you, Pop.

  Your love for the great outdoors in general, and just for being outside grows in me now still. I have you to thank for that.

  After moving to the country your commute to work became more than an hour each way. I remember how tough that was for you. But you never complained.

  And I remember how all those years Ford could not produce enough cars for the demand. You never missed work, and for so many years you worked ten-hour days, six days a week.

  That is when the UAW was strong. That is when honesty, strength in character, and made in America meant something.

  I remember one late summer evening a couple buddies dropped me off at home. We saw a opossum running across the gravel road in front of our house.

  We jumped out of the car, chased and killed it. Then buried it next to your garden.

  The next day you asked me about the grave. I was so ashamed to have to tell you what had happened.

  I’ll never forget the look on your face. That was a sad lesson learned, but I’ve tried to make up for it in many ways many times over the years, Pop.

  As the oldest, I always wanted you to be able to depend on me. I hated when I let you down.

  Hey Pop, remember that day I told you a kid had been bullying me at school? I was afraid of him.

  He finally embarrassed me enough in front of a bunch of kids, I agreed to meet him for the fatal fight at the playground on Saturday.

  I didn’t want to go. You got out the boxing gloves, and worked with me. You gave me the confidence I needed to face him.

  You went with me that day, and he never showed up. You and I were triumphant on our walk home without having to say a word to one another.

  Debbie sends her love, and you should know she is bristling at the bit to get her flower pots out.

  Each year when you visit we love sitting out on the patio among her lovely creations while we talk and cure the ills of the world. We missed you not coming this past summer.

  Thank you Pop for your service to our country, and for making a place where our dreams can come true, and we remain free.

  Thank you Pop for coming into our lives when you did, and for all the love and strength and wisdom you’ve shared over the years.

  I leave for Florida in a few days to hunt turkeys and wild hogs. When I get back I’ll call and tell you all my stories.

  Let’s plan for a few days when I can come down, and we’ll head to the lake and use some of those fancy lures they send me from time to time. 

I’ll be ready for a cold beer. How about you, Pop?