Ed was the 2nd born to John A. Bogard and Eva Mae Fuller. The family moved to Akron, around 1918 so that John could take advantage of the tire factories for a job. Ed followed his father into the tire making industry and began working for Firestone Tire & Rubber Co. He worked there for 34 years. Ed married Ruth L. Guthrie and they had three children, Louise, Evie and Ed II, (the third being me!) My dad was, by all accounts, a serious man. He loved hunting and maintained a large gun collection. He reloaded all of his own ammunition and was very knowledgable in electric, plumbing, carpentry, etc. He held several degrees in electrical engineering. He also held a patent for a machine he created. He was a 32nd degree Mason for 32 years and a ruling elder in the church for over 25 years. He also spent over 30 years as a Boy Scout Leader in the Boy Scouts of America. He loved the Boy Scouts and always wanted me to join. I enjoyed time with him and his troop at camp many times plus at the church gatherings, but I never joined. He never pushed me to. In 1957 he and my mother bought property in Cook Forest, Pa. and he built a house there as a retirement home. But, after ten years of working on it on weekends and summer vacations from work, and with only the upstairs ceiling to finish, he became sick and was found to have cancer. He lingered for two years untill his death. I remember a short story my mom told me. In the early 30's they were driving an open roadster in the country when they were stopped by a policeman. My dad had one hand around my mom and the other on the steering wheel. When the cop told him to use both hands he replied, "I would, officer, but I'm a little scared to take the other one off of the steering wheel."
______________________________________
FROM THE AKRON CITY DIRECTORIES:
1928
Edward M. Bogard, student, home - 767 Carlysle.
1930 DIRECTORY same as 1928.
1933
Edward M. Bogard, home - 767 Carlysle.
1935
Edward M. Bogard, (Ruth L.), works - Firestone Rubber Co., home - 1144 Collinwood Ave.
1938
Edward M. Bogard, (Ruth L.), works - Firestone Rubber Co., home - 1139 Sawyer Ave.
1940 DIRECTORY same as 1938.
1946
Edward M. Bogard, (Ruth L.), electrician - Firestone Rubber Co., home - 967 N. Howard St.
DIRECTORIES 1950 through 1965 same as 1946.
______________________________________
Dad never drank alcohol. Not because he was a christian, but simply because he didn't like it. He once told me that during proabition, his father made beer in the house for himself and friends. Dad said that the smell of the hot beer through the house was terrible. He would sit on their front porch and do his homework. He said that ruined his taste for any booze. But several of his friends drank. That was alright with him. However, dad smoked Winstons.
Dad would help anyone in need. And never took pay for it. But he loved to dicker. Around 1963, at Lowes movie theater in downtown Akron, there was a black gentleman who had a popcorn wagon out front. He sold popcorn to moviegoers. Something went wrong and the man couldn't get the machine to work. I'm not sure how, but dad heard about the man. He told dad that he couldn't afford to have the wagon fixed and he had three kids and it was his only income. I remember seeing that popcorn wagon pulling into the driveway in the old Packard. We got it into the garage and he worked on it untill a little after midnight. The man was so thrilled and wanted to give dad something. He told the man that, whenever we went to the movies, he owed us free popcorn. It was a deal! We never went to the movies.
In 1964, in Segal, Pa., Our barber heated his barbershop and his apartment upstairs with a single coal stove. Needless to say, the place was always chilly. Dad struck a deal and got an old gas furnace from Firestone and took it over to Pa. in our trailer. He worked several days installing it and converting it from natual gas to propane. After that the shop and the man's apartment stayed around 80 degrees even in the coldest winters. He was delighted. The pricetag - three free haircuts a year.
Around 1962 a friend of dad's owned a balloon factory somewhere around Revenna, Ohio. One of his main machines went down. It was going to cost a small fortune to fix it. Dad and I went every evening after he got off work for several days and he findly got it up and running. We got cases and cases of free balloons for dad's grandkids.
One Saturday morning around 1960, a homeless man knocked on our door. He asked my dad is he could wash dad's car for a dollar so he could get a bowl of soup down the street. Dad took great pride in his cars and washed them himself. However, he told the man to go ahead and do it. The man spent around three hours in 85 degree heat washing the '58 Packard in the driveway. Dad went out to check when he was finished and praised the good work. He gave the man a $10.00 bill and thanked him. The man was overcome. Mom, always being the skeptic, watched the man walk down to a bar two blocks away. She told dad, "He's going to buy beer with that money!" Dad told her, "the man did a beautiful job on the car and worked hard. It's his money! Besides, they also sell soup there."
I remembered another story and, as I realize that this is getting long, I think it needs telling. Sometime around 1960, we drove to Texas for the funeral of a good friend of dad's. They had worked together for many years at Firestone in Akron before the friend had moved to Texas to start his own business. When we got into town the old Packard was pretty dirty from the long trip. Dad wanted it washed for the funeral. We stopped at an old run-down gas station that had a "car wash" sign. A rather large, sweaty man ran the station and there was a black man who washed the cars. As the man washed the Packard, dad was talking to him but the man never responded. Dad thought he was deaf. He remarked it to the large man and was told that, "I know ya-all come from up north and ya-all got your ways. But around here, people like that don't talk to white folks. They know better!" This angered my father, but he didn't respond. As the man was finishing the car, and dad could tell it was a great job that he did, he attempted to pay him. The man pointed to the larger man behind the counter as if to say, "you pay him". Dad walked in and payed the large, sweaty man $2.00 and asked how much of that dose the black man get? "He gets 50c of it and is happy with that," the man replied. As we got into the car, dad slipped the black man something as he rolled the hose up. As we drove away, dad was snickering. Mom asked what was so funny? Dad said, "That big idiot is going to pay the man who washed the car 50c not knowing that I gave him $20.00. I remember dad giggling all the way out of town about that. Dad always took a very dim view of racial problems. In the 1950s and '60s, he was the man that always was seen talking and laughing with the black men and hated scenes on television about the stuggle for civil rights. He told mom once that there shouldn't be any struggle, it should just happen! it's that simple. He said once that he voted for John F. Kennedy for president because Kennedy was going to "put an end to the racial tension in this country. Everyone will be equal."
________________________________________________
My First & Only Hunting Trip With My Father
I was around 10-years old. We always went to the Cook Forest house at deer season for dad to go hunting. That year, 1961, dad wanted me to go deer hunting with him. I was NOT a hunter. But not wanting to disapoint him, I went. We truged through the knee deep snow untill we found a good spot in the woods. We sat down behind a fallen tree and waited...freezing! About 20-minutes or so passed and then a large buck came wondering into the clearing in front of us. Dad looked at me and whispered, "he's your's." I raised my 30-30 and took aim, really not wanting to shoot this animal, and then I released the safty...rather loudly. The deer's head came up and he ran. Dad knew I had done it on purpose. He looked at me and asked, "You don't really want to be here, do ya?" I shook my head. Surprisingly to me he smiled and said, "Let's go." We drove down to the little store in Clarington and he bought me a sandwich and soda pop, then drove me home. I felt terrible all afternoon as he returned alone to the woods. That evening, I told him I was sorry and he said, "Don't be sorry! You went with me. You didn't want to but you went anyway. That's all that matters."
________________________________________________
That's the kind of man that he was. And I'm proud to have known him. He died when I was 16-years old. I had so much yet to learn from this man.
Cut & paist this link to go to dad's blog ~
http://mredsdad.blogspot.com/
______________________________________
FROM THE AKRON CITY DIRECTORIES:
1928
Edward M. Bogard, student, home - 767 Carlysle.
1930 DIRECTORY same as 1928.
1933
Edward M. Bogard, home - 767 Carlysle.
1935
Edward M. Bogard, (Ruth L.), works - Firestone Rubber Co., home - 1144 Collinwood Ave.
1938
Edward M. Bogard, (Ruth L.), works - Firestone Rubber Co., home - 1139 Sawyer Ave.
1940 DIRECTORY same as 1938.
1946
Edward M. Bogard, (Ruth L.), electrician - Firestone Rubber Co., home - 967 N. Howard St.
DIRECTORIES 1950 through 1965 same as 1946.
______________________________________
Dad never drank alcohol. Not because he was a christian, but simply because he didn't like it. He once told me that during proabition, his father made beer in the house for himself and friends. Dad said that the smell of the hot beer through the house was terrible. He would sit on their front porch and do his homework. He said that ruined his taste for any booze. But several of his friends drank. That was alright with him. However, dad smoked Winstons.
Dad would help anyone in need. And never took pay for it. But he loved to dicker. Around 1963, at Lowes movie theater in downtown Akron, there was a black gentleman who had a popcorn wagon out front. He sold popcorn to moviegoers. Something went wrong and the man couldn't get the machine to work. I'm not sure how, but dad heard about the man. He told dad that he couldn't afford to have the wagon fixed and he had three kids and it was his only income. I remember seeing that popcorn wagon pulling into the driveway in the old Packard. We got it into the garage and he worked on it untill a little after midnight. The man was so thrilled and wanted to give dad something. He told the man that, whenever we went to the movies, he owed us free popcorn. It was a deal! We never went to the movies.
In 1964, in Segal, Pa., Our barber heated his barbershop and his apartment upstairs with a single coal stove. Needless to say, the place was always chilly. Dad struck a deal and got an old gas furnace from Firestone and took it over to Pa. in our trailer. He worked several days installing it and converting it from natual gas to propane. After that the shop and the man's apartment stayed around 80 degrees even in the coldest winters. He was delighted. The pricetag - three free haircuts a year.
Around 1962 a friend of dad's owned a balloon factory somewhere around Revenna, Ohio. One of his main machines went down. It was going to cost a small fortune to fix it. Dad and I went every evening after he got off work for several days and he findly got it up and running. We got cases and cases of free balloons for dad's grandkids.
One Saturday morning around 1960, a homeless man knocked on our door. He asked my dad is he could wash dad's car for a dollar so he could get a bowl of soup down the street. Dad took great pride in his cars and washed them himself. However, he told the man to go ahead and do it. The man spent around three hours in 85 degree heat washing the '58 Packard in the driveway. Dad went out to check when he was finished and praised the good work. He gave the man a $10.00 bill and thanked him. The man was overcome. Mom, always being the skeptic, watched the man walk down to a bar two blocks away. She told dad, "He's going to buy beer with that money!" Dad told her, "the man did a beautiful job on the car and worked hard. It's his money! Besides, they also sell soup there."
I remembered another story and, as I realize that this is getting long, I think it needs telling. Sometime around 1960, we drove to Texas for the funeral of a good friend of dad's. They had worked together for many years at Firestone in Akron before the friend had moved to Texas to start his own business. When we got into town the old Packard was pretty dirty from the long trip. Dad wanted it washed for the funeral. We stopped at an old run-down gas station that had a "car wash" sign. A rather large, sweaty man ran the station and there was a black man who washed the cars. As the man washed the Packard, dad was talking to him but the man never responded. Dad thought he was deaf. He remarked it to the large man and was told that, "I know ya-all come from up north and ya-all got your ways. But around here, people like that don't talk to white folks. They know better!" This angered my father, but he didn't respond. As the man was finishing the car, and dad could tell it was a great job that he did, he attempted to pay him. The man pointed to the larger man behind the counter as if to say, "you pay him". Dad walked in and payed the large, sweaty man $2.00 and asked how much of that dose the black man get? "He gets 50c of it and is happy with that," the man replied. As we got into the car, dad slipped the black man something as he rolled the hose up. As we drove away, dad was snickering. Mom asked what was so funny? Dad said, "That big idiot is going to pay the man who washed the car 50c not knowing that I gave him $20.00. I remember dad giggling all the way out of town about that. Dad always took a very dim view of racial problems. In the 1950s and '60s, he was the man that always was seen talking and laughing with the black men and hated scenes on television about the stuggle for civil rights. He told mom once that there shouldn't be any struggle, it should just happen! it's that simple. He said once that he voted for John F. Kennedy for president because Kennedy was going to "put an end to the racial tension in this country. Everyone will be equal."
________________________________________________
My First & Only Hunting Trip With My Father
I was around 10-years old. We always went to the Cook Forest house at deer season for dad to go hunting. That year, 1961, dad wanted me to go deer hunting with him. I was NOT a hunter. But not wanting to disapoint him, I went. We truged through the knee deep snow untill we found a good spot in the woods. We sat down behind a fallen tree and waited...freezing! About 20-minutes or so passed and then a large buck came wondering into the clearing in front of us. Dad looked at me and whispered, "he's your's." I raised my 30-30 and took aim, really not wanting to shoot this animal, and then I released the safty...rather loudly. The deer's head came up and he ran. Dad knew I had done it on purpose. He looked at me and asked, "You don't really want to be here, do ya?" I shook my head. Surprisingly to me he smiled and said, "Let's go." We drove down to the little store in Clarington and he bought me a sandwich and soda pop, then drove me home. I felt terrible all afternoon as he returned alone to the woods. That evening, I told him I was sorry and he said, "Don't be sorry! You went with me. You didn't want to but you went anyway. That's all that matters."
________________________________________________
That's the kind of man that he was. And I'm proud to have known him. He died when I was 16-years old. I had so much yet to learn from this man.
Cut & paist this link to go to dad's blog ~
http://mredsdad.blogspot.com/
Ed was the 2nd born to John A. Bogard and Eva Mae Fuller. The family moved to Akron, around 1918 so that John could take advantage of the tire factories for a job. Ed followed his father into the tire making industry and began working for Firestone Tire & Rubber Co. He worked there for 34 years. Ed married Ruth L. Guthrie and they had three children, Louise, Evie and Ed II, (the third being me!) My dad was, by all accounts, a serious man. He loved hunting and maintained a large gun collection. He reloaded all of his own ammunition and was very knowledgable in electric, plumbing, carpentry, etc. He held several degrees in electrical engineering. He also held a patent for a machine he created. He was a 32nd degree Mason for 32 years and a ruling elder in the church for over 25 years. He also spent over 30 years as a Boy Scout Leader in the Boy Scouts of America. He loved the Boy Scouts and always wanted me to join. I enjoyed time with him and his troop at camp many times plus at the church gatherings, but I never joined. He never pushed me to. In 1957 he and my mother bought property in Cook Forest, Pa. and he built a house there as a retirement home. But, after ten years of working on it on weekends and summer vacations from work, and with only the upstairs ceiling to finish, he became sick and was found to have cancer. He lingered for two years untill his death. I remember a short story my mom told me. In the early 30's they were driving an open roadster in the country when they were stopped by a policeman. My dad had one hand around my mom and the other on the steering wheel. When the cop told him to use both hands he replied, "I would, officer, but I'm a little scared to take the other one off of the steering wheel."
______________________________________
FROM THE AKRON CITY DIRECTORIES:
1928
Edward M. Bogard, student, home - 767 Carlysle.
1930 DIRECTORY same as 1928.
1933
Edward M. Bogard, home - 767 Carlysle.
1935
Edward M. Bogard, (Ruth L.), works - Firestone Rubber Co., home - 1144 Collinwood Ave.
1938
Edward M. Bogard, (Ruth L.), works - Firestone Rubber Co., home - 1139 Sawyer Ave.
1940 DIRECTORY same as 1938.
1946
Edward M. Bogard, (Ruth L.), electrician - Firestone Rubber Co., home - 967 N. Howard St.
DIRECTORIES 1950 through 1965 same as 1946.
______________________________________
Dad never drank alcohol. Not because he was a christian, but simply because he didn't like it. He once told me that during proabition, his father made beer in the house for himself and friends. Dad said that the smell of the hot beer through the house was terrible. He would sit on their front porch and do his homework. He said that ruined his taste for any booze. But several of his friends drank. That was alright with him. However, dad smoked Winstons.
Dad would help anyone in need. And never took pay for it. But he loved to dicker. Around 1963, at Lowes movie theater in downtown Akron, there was a black gentleman who had a popcorn wagon out front. He sold popcorn to moviegoers. Something went wrong and the man couldn't get the machine to work. I'm not sure how, but dad heard about the man. He told dad that he couldn't afford to have the wagon fixed and he had three kids and it was his only income. I remember seeing that popcorn wagon pulling into the driveway in the old Packard. We got it into the garage and he worked on it untill a little after midnight. The man was so thrilled and wanted to give dad something. He told the man that, whenever we went to the movies, he owed us free popcorn. It was a deal! We never went to the movies.
In 1964, in Segal, Pa., Our barber heated his barbershop and his apartment upstairs with a single coal stove. Needless to say, the place was always chilly. Dad struck a deal and got an old gas furnace from Firestone and took it over to Pa. in our trailer. He worked several days installing it and converting it from natual gas to propane. After that the shop and the man's apartment stayed around 80 degrees even in the coldest winters. He was delighted. The pricetag - three free haircuts a year.
Around 1962 a friend of dad's owned a balloon factory somewhere around Revenna, Ohio. One of his main machines went down. It was going to cost a small fortune to fix it. Dad and I went every evening after he got off work for several days and he findly got it up and running. We got cases and cases of free balloons for dad's grandkids.
One Saturday morning around 1960, a homeless man knocked on our door. He asked my dad is he could wash dad's car for a dollar so he could get a bowl of soup down the street. Dad took great pride in his cars and washed them himself. However, he told the man to go ahead and do it. The man spent around three hours in 85 degree heat washing the '58 Packard in the driveway. Dad went out to check when he was finished and praised the good work. He gave the man a $10.00 bill and thanked him. The man was overcome. Mom, always being the skeptic, watched the man walk down to a bar two blocks away. She told dad, "He's going to buy beer with that money!" Dad told her, "the man did a beautiful job on the car and worked hard. It's his money! Besides, they also sell soup there."
I remembered another story and, as I realize that this is getting long, I think it needs telling. Sometime around 1960, we drove to Texas for the funeral of a good friend of dad's. They had worked together for many years at Firestone in Akron before the friend had moved to Texas to start his own business. When we got into town the old Packard was pretty dirty from the long trip. Dad wanted it washed for the funeral. We stopped at an old run-down gas station that had a "car wash" sign. A rather large, sweaty man ran the station and there was a black man who washed the cars. As the man washed the Packard, dad was talking to him but the man never responded. Dad thought he was deaf. He remarked it to the large man and was told that, "I know ya-all come from up north and ya-all got your ways. But around here, people like that don't talk to white folks. They know better!" This angered my father, but he didn't respond. As the man was finishing the car, and dad could tell it was a great job that he did, he attempted to pay him. The man pointed to the larger man behind the counter as if to say, "you pay him". Dad walked in and payed the large, sweaty man $2.00 and asked how much of that dose the black man get? "He gets 50c of it and is happy with that," the man replied. As we got into the car, dad slipped the black man something as he rolled the hose up. As we drove away, dad was snickering. Mom asked what was so funny? Dad said, "That big idiot is going to pay the man who washed the car 50c not knowing that I gave him $20.00. I remember dad giggling all the way out of town about that. Dad always took a very dim view of racial problems. In the 1950s and '60s, he was the man that always was seen talking and laughing with the black men and hated scenes on television about the stuggle for civil rights. He told mom once that there shouldn't be any struggle, it should just happen! it's that simple. He said once that he voted for John F. Kennedy for president because Kennedy was going to "put an end to the racial tension in this country. Everyone will be equal."
________________________________________________
My First & Only Hunting Trip With My Father
I was around 10-years old. We always went to the Cook Forest house at deer season for dad to go hunting. That year, 1961, dad wanted me to go deer hunting with him. I was NOT a hunter. But not wanting to disapoint him, I went. We truged through the knee deep snow untill we found a good spot in the woods. We sat down behind a fallen tree and waited...freezing! About 20-minutes or so passed and then a large buck came wondering into the clearing in front of us. Dad looked at me and whispered, "he's your's." I raised my 30-30 and took aim, really not wanting to shoot this animal, and then I released the safty...rather loudly. The deer's head came up and he ran. Dad knew I had done it on purpose. He looked at me and asked, "You don't really want to be here, do ya?" I shook my head. Surprisingly to me he smiled and said, "Let's go." We drove down to the little store in Clarington and he bought me a sandwich and soda pop, then drove me home. I felt terrible all afternoon as he returned alone to the woods. That evening, I told him I was sorry and he said, "Don't be sorry! You went with me. You didn't want to but you went anyway. That's all that matters."
________________________________________________
That's the kind of man that he was. And I'm proud to have known him. He died when I was 16-years old. I had so much yet to learn from this man.
Cut & paist this link to go to dad's blog ~
http://mredsdad.blogspot.com/
______________________________________
FROM THE AKRON CITY DIRECTORIES:
1928
Edward M. Bogard, student, home - 767 Carlysle.
1930 DIRECTORY same as 1928.
1933
Edward M. Bogard, home - 767 Carlysle.
1935
Edward M. Bogard, (Ruth L.), works - Firestone Rubber Co., home - 1144 Collinwood Ave.
1938
Edward M. Bogard, (Ruth L.), works - Firestone Rubber Co., home - 1139 Sawyer Ave.
1940 DIRECTORY same as 1938.
1946
Edward M. Bogard, (Ruth L.), electrician - Firestone Rubber Co., home - 967 N. Howard St.
DIRECTORIES 1950 through 1965 same as 1946.
______________________________________
Dad never drank alcohol. Not because he was a christian, but simply because he didn't like it. He once told me that during proabition, his father made beer in the house for himself and friends. Dad said that the smell of the hot beer through the house was terrible. He would sit on their front porch and do his homework. He said that ruined his taste for any booze. But several of his friends drank. That was alright with him. However, dad smoked Winstons.
Dad would help anyone in need. And never took pay for it. But he loved to dicker. Around 1963, at Lowes movie theater in downtown Akron, there was a black gentleman who had a popcorn wagon out front. He sold popcorn to moviegoers. Something went wrong and the man couldn't get the machine to work. I'm not sure how, but dad heard about the man. He told dad that he couldn't afford to have the wagon fixed and he had three kids and it was his only income. I remember seeing that popcorn wagon pulling into the driveway in the old Packard. We got it into the garage and he worked on it untill a little after midnight. The man was so thrilled and wanted to give dad something. He told the man that, whenever we went to the movies, he owed us free popcorn. It was a deal! We never went to the movies.
In 1964, in Segal, Pa., Our barber heated his barbershop and his apartment upstairs with a single coal stove. Needless to say, the place was always chilly. Dad struck a deal and got an old gas furnace from Firestone and took it over to Pa. in our trailer. He worked several days installing it and converting it from natual gas to propane. After that the shop and the man's apartment stayed around 80 degrees even in the coldest winters. He was delighted. The pricetag - three free haircuts a year.
Around 1962 a friend of dad's owned a balloon factory somewhere around Revenna, Ohio. One of his main machines went down. It was going to cost a small fortune to fix it. Dad and I went every evening after he got off work for several days and he findly got it up and running. We got cases and cases of free balloons for dad's grandkids.
One Saturday morning around 1960, a homeless man knocked on our door. He asked my dad is he could wash dad's car for a dollar so he could get a bowl of soup down the street. Dad took great pride in his cars and washed them himself. However, he told the man to go ahead and do it. The man spent around three hours in 85 degree heat washing the '58 Packard in the driveway. Dad went out to check when he was finished and praised the good work. He gave the man a $10.00 bill and thanked him. The man was overcome. Mom, always being the skeptic, watched the man walk down to a bar two blocks away. She told dad, "He's going to buy beer with that money!" Dad told her, "the man did a beautiful job on the car and worked hard. It's his money! Besides, they also sell soup there."
I remembered another story and, as I realize that this is getting long, I think it needs telling. Sometime around 1960, we drove to Texas for the funeral of a good friend of dad's. They had worked together for many years at Firestone in Akron before the friend had moved to Texas to start his own business. When we got into town the old Packard was pretty dirty from the long trip. Dad wanted it washed for the funeral. We stopped at an old run-down gas station that had a "car wash" sign. A rather large, sweaty man ran the station and there was a black man who washed the cars. As the man washed the Packard, dad was talking to him but the man never responded. Dad thought he was deaf. He remarked it to the large man and was told that, "I know ya-all come from up north and ya-all got your ways. But around here, people like that don't talk to white folks. They know better!" This angered my father, but he didn't respond. As the man was finishing the car, and dad could tell it was a great job that he did, he attempted to pay him. The man pointed to the larger man behind the counter as if to say, "you pay him". Dad walked in and payed the large, sweaty man $2.00 and asked how much of that dose the black man get? "He gets 50c of it and is happy with that," the man replied. As we got into the car, dad slipped the black man something as he rolled the hose up. As we drove away, dad was snickering. Mom asked what was so funny? Dad said, "That big idiot is going to pay the man who washed the car 50c not knowing that I gave him $20.00. I remember dad giggling all the way out of town about that. Dad always took a very dim view of racial problems. In the 1950s and '60s, he was the man that always was seen talking and laughing with the black men and hated scenes on television about the stuggle for civil rights. He told mom once that there shouldn't be any struggle, it should just happen! it's that simple. He said once that he voted for John F. Kennedy for president because Kennedy was going to "put an end to the racial tension in this country. Everyone will be equal."
________________________________________________
My First & Only Hunting Trip With My Father
I was around 10-years old. We always went to the Cook Forest house at deer season for dad to go hunting. That year, 1961, dad wanted me to go deer hunting with him. I was NOT a hunter. But not wanting to disapoint him, I went. We truged through the knee deep snow untill we found a good spot in the woods. We sat down behind a fallen tree and waited...freezing! About 20-minutes or so passed and then a large buck came wondering into the clearing in front of us. Dad looked at me and whispered, "he's your's." I raised my 30-30 and took aim, really not wanting to shoot this animal, and then I released the safty...rather loudly. The deer's head came up and he ran. Dad knew I had done it on purpose. He looked at me and asked, "You don't really want to be here, do ya?" I shook my head. Surprisingly to me he smiled and said, "Let's go." We drove down to the little store in Clarington and he bought me a sandwich and soda pop, then drove me home. I felt terrible all afternoon as he returned alone to the woods. That evening, I told him I was sorry and he said, "Don't be sorry! You went with me. You didn't want to but you went anyway. That's all that matters."
________________________________________________
That's the kind of man that he was. And I'm proud to have known him. He died when I was 16-years old. I had so much yet to learn from this man.
Cut & paist this link to go to dad's blog ~
http://mredsdad.blogspot.com/
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