Fathers can either be loved, admired, fun, joy filled with his child, children, beloved or just tolerant or just plain hated.
Mine was loved, loving and good at sending me, not sure about my step-brother, or sisters, who were all married by the time I was six. to Mom to answer questions I asked. His favorite saying was, “go ask your Mother.” When I was under about 10 and maybe for a few more years, I did get to stay up past my bedtime by waking Daddy from his evening nap by touching him and asking, “Isn’t it time for coffee, Daddy” He would say, “yeah go tell Mom, it is time for coffee.” Never asked Mom but I bet she told me it was time for bed before it actually was so that Daddy and I could have our evening coffee. Mine was milk with just a little coffee to turn the milk slightly brown. That is a special memory. There are others but that is a very special one.
But when he wanted something done, “I promised you would do it so go and do it.” For instance one Friday night I planed to go skating but he had promised a friend I would babysit for them. So I went babysitting, not skating as I wanted. He was a loved by and adored by his 20 or so grandchildren.
When Daddy worked on the Build and Bridges department of the C.P.R ( Canadian Pacific Railway) he would be away from Sunday night until Friday somewhere between Crows Nest, divider between B.C and Alberta, and Midway to the west. After I was old enough to stay alone at home, Mom would go with him. Yes I had someone to call or come at a moment’s notice. One of my nephews at 5 years old, before he started school. went with Mom and Daddy on the line maybe Midway for a week. He played with the other young kids around the station while he was there. On one trip there was a kid who was a bully and liked to pick on Sonny and the other kids. Sonny would come back to the box car, turned into a cabin for the workers, with a black eye or a scrape on his arm or leg because he had been bushed or beaten up by this kid. Mom told him to get the kid down and sit on him until he said “Uncle”. But she did add “don’t hurt him, just sit on him.”
The next time, the bully came to play, Sonny did exactly that. Later that day there was a knock on the door of the box car. The child’s mother came and complained to Mom, “Your grandson sat on my son and made him say Uncle.” She pocked her finger at Mom. “I don’t like that. I want you to punish him.”
Mom stayed calm, “did my grandson hurt your son?”
The woman said, “no he just sat on him.”
Mom said, “that was exactly what I told him to do. We should stay out of our children’s quarrels.”
The lady left in a huff and never talked to Mom again when she was at that station, but Sonny and her son became best of friends.
I know I wandered some from Daddy. There are so many stories I could tell you about Peter Ham Zubick but this is the one for now.
Love you Daddy and miss you still even after 56 years. You will always be with me.