Western Day

I've told you before that my father looked like John Wayne, talked like John Wayne, walked like John Wayne and cuffed his jeans like John Wayne (he wasn't obsessed with the actor and in fact enjoyed and admired many other actors and famous people, he sang like Bing Crosby).


Sitting here watching the Rifleman with Dirt (we've been watching the western channel all afternoon, somehow it turned into our family's celebration of Veterans Day), I am reminded that my uncle Loren, my father's older brother looked just like Chuck Conners. Except he talked a lot less.


Johnny Crawford, Mark on The Rifleman, reminds me of Kathy's youngest son who is all growed up now.


I really need to get my scanner needs taken care of, go down to my oldest sister's house in Portland, get pictures of my parents and grandparents and other miscellaneous relatives so that I can show you pictures of all these people I occasionally yap about.


Uncle Loren and his wife Aunt Kay were very forties-ish. I loved that about them. It wasn't just their clothing or Aunt Kay's make-up, it was Uncle Loren's truck and their house too that gave me a feeling of the forties. My mom and dad were by no means hip and faddish but they were certainly up on fashions that were appropriate for family people in the sixties and seventies. The two brothers ended up in the same town, working together, hunting together very much alike and very much different.


My dad had a yellow lab, named Rocko but Uncle Loren had a black lab named Corbell. I loved standing next to her until I could no longer take the punishment her enormous tail dished out. I remember when my dad's dog finally got so sick my dad carried him in and out of the house and stood him up on the yard so he could urinate. He cried the day he finally carried him to the car so he could drive him to the vet to have him put to sleep. Both men were very strong but there were enough moments when those close to them saw their tender sides.


Sitting here I get why my day was spent this way. I was reminded of my two favorite Veterans. When I was little I loved to look at pictures of my dad and my uncle with their big airplanes. Amazingly, they ended up stationed together at the end of WWII. Though the stories that accompanied the pictures were few they were told often and they always impressed me. I am sure that my brothers heard different stories than the ones my father and uncle shared in "mixed" company, both men were like that, protecting the womenfolk and children from the harshness of life.



My father and my uncle were kind, gentle but very strong men. They are sorely missed in this life and I look forward to meeting up with them again what ever that means, when we are all in the sweet by and by.



There’s a land that is fairer than day,
And by faith we can see it afar;
For the Father waits over the way
To prepare us a dwelling place there.

In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore;
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore.

We shall sing on that beautiful shore
The melodious songs of the blessed;
And our spirits shall sorrow no more,
Not a sigh for the blessing of rest.

In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore;
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore.

To our bountiful Father above,
We will offer our tribute of praise
For the glorious gift of His love
And the blessings that hallow our days.


In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore;
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore.

Sanford F. Bennett, 1868