TV commercials for Cheerios remind me of Dad. While I was growing up, he and I listened to The Lone Ranger on the barn radio during evening milking. When the latest ring offer came on the air, I wanted to send in a Cheerios box top and twenty-five cents in coin, but I didn’t like to eat cereal. Dad pushed aside his usual corn flakes for breakfast and consumed the little Os that sponsored the program. When the ring arrived in the mail several weeks later, he squeezed its adjustable band together to fit on my small hand. I painted the shiny, gold-colored metal with clear fingernail polish so it wouldn’t turn my finger green. I accumulated a large collection. The last was an atomic bomb ring. I’d sit on the floor in my closet where it was dark, pull the red tail fin away from the body of the gray bomb and watch the tiny, exploding lights. I don’t remember how they tied in the modern invention that ended World War II with the hero who thundered out of the past astride the great horse Silver.
At that time, I wore ‘spender overalls and tagged after my father. He was a busy farmer, but when he needed to go to town or the neighbors, he waited for Mom to wash my face and comb my hair so I was ‘presentable’ to go along. For our last trip together, I wore my white wedding gown and he escorted me down the aisle. Dad never said the words, “I love you,” but he taught me to love a good man.
What fond memories do you have of your father?