DADDY'S HANDS
I remember daddy's hands folded silently in prayer
And reachin' out to hold me, when I had a nightmare
You could read quite a story in the callous' and lines
Years of work and worry had left their mark behind
I remember daddy's hands how they held my mama tight
And patted my back for something done right
There are things that I'd forgotten that I loved about the man
But I'll always remember the love in daddy's hands
Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin'
Daddy's hands were hard as steel when I'd done wrong
Daddy's hands weren't always gentle but I've come to understand
There was always love in daddy's hands.
I remember daddy's hands workin' 'til they bled
Sacrifised unselfishly just to keep us all fed
If I could do things over, I'd live my life again
And never take for granted the love in daddy's hands
By Holly Dunn
I wanted to write an original poem, but it just didn't happen today. The next best thing I found was the words to the song, Daddy's Hands, by Holly Dunn.
My Daddy was a farmer. He struggled many years to get the farm paid for and was finally able to build a new brick house after he raised his family. It was nothing fancy, he drew the plans and he and his brother did most all the work.
During the long, hard years of raising his three children right after the great depression, he did a little of any kind of honest work he could find. Some of the things I remember were that he would do carpentry work when he was not working in the cotton and corn fields.
He had five or six kerosene incubators where he hatched eggs and raised baby chicks to sell. He marked the eggs with a straight line on one side and a cross mark on the other side and each night we went out to the incubator house (which was a log house that he built) to turn the eggs and replenish the kerosene in the lamps that heated the water in the incubators. When the chicks hatched, we would tend to them until they were a few days old, and then people would buy them by boxes of 50 or 100. He did some trapping and sold the pelts to Sears Roebuck or Montgomery Ward.
He always raised cows for our milk and to have cream to sell. I can remember how that old dark blue cream separator looked like a minature water tank on legs. It had a glass in the side so you could see when the cream was ready. We set the cream by the road in cans which held about five gallons. A truck would come around on certain days and pick it up and take it to sell.
He always planted a garden near the house and patches of vegetables and peanuts down by the fields. He grew or raised almost everything we ate, except flour, sugar and coffee. Besides all the vegetables, he had orchards of pears, peaches, apples and grapes. The excess produce was either canned or dried for later use, as we did not have electricity until 1947 or 1948. Even jars of cooked chicken and fried sausages were canned and lined up on the shelves with the vegetables.
I don't remember eating much beef, if any, but we always had cows, giving us all the milk and butter we needed. The hogs provided all the pork we needed for another year. On a day when it was cold enough, the neighbors would come and help Daddy with the "hog killing". Of course Daddy always shared the meat with them and he would return the favor by helping when they killed their hogs.
Daddy planted lots of Pecan trees. There were four or five on either side of the house as well as several in a field near the house. He sold pecans from these for many years.
For sweet treats, besides the fruits, jellies and preserves, we enjoyed honey and molasses. Daddy grew sorghum and Louisiana Ribbon Cane and made the molasses for us and some to sell. We had bee hives, and at certain times of the year he harvested the honey. This was always a treat because on that night we invited the neighbors in and feasted on, what we called 'light bread' (this was like sour dough bread or yeast rolls), butter and honey fresh from the honeycomb.
Daddy always took the whole family to Sunday school and church and the revival meetings that were held in the summer. He also taught a Sunday school class in later years. My Daddy was a real Christian, Southern gentleman and I was proud to call him Daddy. After a short illness from cancer, my Daddy passed away in 1975 at the age of 72.
I love you and still miss you, Daddy.
