Fred Carson Green, 1931-2001

My father died on this day in 2001.  While he had congestive heart failure, diabetes, high blood pressure, and just recovered from a bout with colon cancer, he died of none of these.  He committed suicide, and left not only his family, but his whole community reeling with grief and unbelief.  Needless to say, it was unexpected and shocking.

However, I want to write a little about his life and not his death.  My parents married in August 1962, and in October, as my mother was cooking my father's breakfast, she experienced her first bout of morning sickness, and announced to my father, "I'm pregnant.  That's the only thing that would make me sick."  My father didn't think that was posssible, but the rabbit died, and so I arrived in July 1963. 

You could call me a loved mistake or the first anniversary (barely) gift.  My maternal grandfather "called" the sex of babies, and predicted my mother would give birth to a boy.  He had been right in so many instances that my parents were showered with baby boy gifts and clothes.  Surprise!  Guess what wasn't there when the blessed arrival popped out!  After figuring out an appropriate name (they weren't prepared for that either), Dad went on to his job as a farm equipment mechanic.  He cut his left hand with something that day as fatherhood mentally sank in.  For years, he would show me that scar on my birthday as a reminder that he was surprised, and yet thrilled to be a father.

Now my Dad married late, and he wasn't the kind of father that played baseball in the yard, or anything like that.  But he did other things. 

  Here I am sitting on his lap smoking his pipe.  I didn't do that often, just enough to remind the rest of the family that I was a tomboy. 

He'd often fall asleep on the couch in the evening, just as in this photo.  One night he was supposed to watch me while Mom was working at DuPont, and he fell asleep.  I decided he needed a pedicure, so I used Mom's BRIGHT RED nail polish to do that.  There was no nail polish remover in the house, and Mom was so vexed that she wouldn't buy any.  And of course Dad wouldn't be caught dead buying it, so the red nail polish had to wear off. 

Dad loved bluegrass music, and he and Mom played in several different bands for many years.  Dad wasn't a great musician or singer, but he LOVED music and certainly supported my love and interest in music. 

He was also a faithful son, and every Saturday afternoon of my growing up was spent visiting his parents, listening to their stories and their needs.  We'd also visit other relatives on that side of the family -- there were so many!  We'd walk over Grandpa and Grandma's farm, and drive many country roads. 

Dad taught me how to read a map, how to remember where I had been, the points of the compass, how to read the sun's orientation in the sky, and just hammered in me a sense of direction.   He also spoiled me as much as he knew how -- his growing up wasn't an easy one, and while I had work around the house and take care of my maternal grandmother, I didn't have to earn money for my clothes and shoes like he did.

He wasn't happy when I transferred schools in undergrad and moved further away from home.  I don't know if it was fear of the unknown or the knowledge that I might live further away someday.  Eventually I went to school in Virginia again, then Indiana, and then settled in Kansas City.  I didn't get home as often as I would have liked, but I called several times a week.  They came out to visit a couple of times, but not after Dad's health declined. 

I remember when Dad was hospitalized with an intestinal hemmorhage.  I got an immediate flight home, and rented a car so no one would have to leave the hospital to pick me up.  That's how very serious things were.  I had just dyed my hair a bright auburn, and when I walked into Dad's ICU room and held his hand, he opened his eyes and said "Hey, Red."  Sweet words.

Folks loved Dad.  He cracked jokes and picked at kids.  They were fascinated with his shiny bald head.  Farmers loved him -- he would come to their fields evenings and weekends to rescue a stranded hay baler or tractor.  I accompanied him on some of these trips and was amazed that my daddy with the huge hands could take engines apart, or the tines and belts of a hay baler apart, then repair them with a little of nothing.  He'd tell the farmer that they'd be able to get through the weekend, or the main baling, but he'd check for the part when he got back to the shop or order what was needed to make the final fix.  And he did. 

When I waited tables at a hometown restaurant one summer, I'd see men come in with caps advertising where my dad worked.  So I'd say, "I bet you know my Daddy."  "Aw, who's your Daddy, girl?"  "My Daddy's Fred Green." "Awww, I wouldn't trust my hay baler/tractor/combine to anyone but Fred Green."  And that's how I got decent tips that summer.  Dad said I was using him, and I said that he was right, but think about all of those evenings and weekends out in hay fields and I figured that it was about right.

Dad loved to pull jokes and pranks too.  He was pretty careful about picking his audience, though.  My husband had his own initiation with Dad.  During Joel's first visit, Dad suggested that the three of us go for a ride out in the country.  So off we went in the truck, Dad driving, me in the middle, and Joel on the passenger side.  We rambled around, wound up on the Parkway, and coming back, I joked with Dad that "maybe we should go over the Gap road."  The Gap road means Adney's Gap, a one-lane dirt road shortcut from Green's Creek over to where my grandparents' farm was.  If you meet a vehicle on the Gap road, someone has to back up -- either down or up the mountain.  It's narrow, winding, and the drop off takes one's breath away.  So, over the Gap we go.  The first part of the ride, the dropoff is on Dad's side and the mountain is on Joel's side.  "This isn't so bad," Joel remarked.  Then we went over the Gap, and the dropoff was on Joel's side.  He turned pale, considering the narrow, winding road and the sharp drop.  When we finally got home, Dad and I were grinning, and Joel was still deathly white.  Mom took one look and said, "you didn't!  You didn't!  You took him over the Gap road, didn't you?"

So, it's those funny stories I want to remember.  How much he loved whatever I cooked, no matter how bad it was or how awful it looked.  How happy he was that I could and would come home and spend several weeks with him during his surgery and recovery.  How much he enjoyed my calls -- especially when I surprised him with a call during the middle of the day.  How he loved to sing for me and let me go with him to his Wednesday night men's only picking sessions every so often.

Thank you for reading this entry.

I'm blessed to have had a father who loved me and who supported my dreams.  I miss you Dad, and I hope you're in the presence of our Lord, who takes away all pain, worry, and the burdens of this world.

Comments

[Mary]

LG, thank you for sharing your heart and giving us a glimpse of your father. I know he had to be so proud of his wonderful daughter with all your talents and your love and loyalty to friends and family alike.

I love you, my sister.

[Carl V.]

Sounds like a man who is definitely worth remembering and worth remembering well. Thanks for sharing that. His life should be remembered by all that you wrote and more, not by how it ended.

[lauragayle]

Hugs to you both -- and thank you so much for your friendship and love.

[sandy]

That was wonderful to read about your daddy. Sounds like he was a wonderful man. You and I are the same age and I had the same hairdo as you did back in those days!!

[Dominique]

You brought me to tears with the affection you still have for your father. I am so happy that joy you brought to each other's lives is what you remember the most.

[fred1st]

Your Gap Road sounds a lot like Goose Creek. I think I got sorta pale the first time we drove down in here--made worse by the fact that once you start down, there's no place to turn around for over a mile. That, and the fact that our first drive down was just after an ice storm. We NEVER go out THAT way when we've had ice or snow!