From a Logger with Love #Father's Day

 

"In whom there is no guile [falseness, craftiness]."

 

Jesus said these words in John 1:47 when describing Nathanael. They also fit my father, William E. Reece (1899-1968).. His handshake was more binding than any written contract. His word was his bond, so much so that someone once said, "Bill is a man of peace but if he ever says he's coming to beat you up at six o'clock, you'd better be somewhere else!" This back-handed compliment showed the respect in which Dad was held by all who knew him. 

Packer for U.S. Forest Service, 1922

Dad  had no wealth to leave my brothers and me but we received a rich inheritance of intangibles from his example. Such as removing his hat in respect when the flag passed by. and standing when a woman entered the room. High on the list was the legacy of laughter. A quiet man, Dad possessed a sense of humor that successfully carried us through hard times. He also taught us to be the first to laugh when we messed up. That way, no one could laugh at us. They were forced to laugh with us.

I will never forget the time when a busybody woman peered at Dad and commented, "My, Mr. Reece, you certainly have a big nose."

Dad didn't crack a smile, just said with  innocent blue eyes and his invincible Southern courtesy, "Yes, Ma'am. I kept it out of other people's business and let it grow."

So great was Dad's gift of laughter that on the day of his graveside service, my brothers and I stood on the covered back porch watching a summer storm. Boom. Bang. Crash. Sizzle. Thunder and lightning filled the sky and echoed from mountain to mountain.

I stared into the heavens and words rushed out of their own volition. "Wouldn't you know it, Dad's only been up there for a half hour and he is already throwing a party!" Healing laughter followed, then tears, evidence that. Dad's legacy prevailed when most needed.

Others give thanks for rich inheritances. I wouldn't trade what my logger father left for all the wealth in Fort Knox. Thanks, Dad.

 

At home in Darrington, mid 1960s, Dad, Mom, Jerry (step-nephew who lived with us) me.