My Father Francis Leo Knott

I especially want to thank the men who remain active in their children’s lives. I read an article the other day that said there are 18.5 million children who do not have a man in their lives. I am thankful I had several.

I wrote about my father in another (read here) post relating his influence on my childhood. Now, I would like to mention several uncles who played an important role.

Uncle James Harris, my mother’s brother, rented a room from us. I was five when he moved in. Uncle James worked as a machine operator at Caterpillar and rarely missed a day. I remember how he loved to watch the Friday Night Fights and wrestling. His hobby was gunsmithing. He instilled a respect for guns in me and my siblings.

Uncles Robert and (read related post) Donald Harris also worked at Caterpillar. Uncle Robert lived in Peoria and was a deacon in his church. I remember how much he loved my mom and dad’s cooking. He never missed a holiday dinner or any excuse for Sunday dinner.

Uncle Donald lived for a time on Peach Street, near us in Beverly Manor. My brothers and I played with his sons until they moved across town. It was to far to see them often. Yet, Uncle Don was a regular at the house, spending many hours with Uncle James in his gunshop.

You will notice that I don’t list how they impacted who I am today. Instead, the example they gave daily as god-fearing, hard-working men guided me through my formative years.

I thank God they were in my life.

Men don’t have to be the father to impact who a child becomes. However, being there to set an example, listen when a child wants to talk, and answer questions are all important to a child’s development.

Can you be the man for one of the 18.5 million children who need a man in their life?

Beverly Manor

The neighborhood I grew up in was, still is, called Beverly Manor. Keep in mind, I lived there from 1953 to 1965—a long time ago. Yet, some memories are still vivid.

Vohland Street

Beverly Manor at the time had five streets into the housing area. The one I lived on was Vohland Street. The street was named for the family running the farm fronting the road across Route 24. As I remember, my brothers and our running mates spent many days in the fields after harvest, hunting giant spiders with bows and arrows.

Mac’s

My house was the second house from Route 24, but the third building. We were on the left as you came on the street. The first building on my side was Mac’s Tavern. The tavern had a front door recessed in an alcove. This alcove found much use in the winter as we huddled to keep warm while waiting for the school bus. Illinois school districts didn’t cancel school for snow, even if several inches. Maryland schools close if there is a threat of snow. LOL.

Pinball Junkie

Across Vohland from Mac’s was a small general store. Besides candy, the store had a pinball machine. I don’t remember what it cost to play a game, but my best friend John and I became so good at doubles, we rarely paid for more than one game. We won free games with high scores. Often, we became tired of playing and left free games for whoever came next. If you don’t know, doubles meant John played one flipper and I the other. Usually, he was on the left flipper.

There was an alley that opened onto Vohland behind the store. It ran over to Grant Street. Grant Street connected with Route 24 and with School Street. A friend of the family rented an apartment on Grant Street. I cut her grass and babysat her children when I was about ten or eleven years old.

School Street Hill

I noted how these roads connected because they were our road to other adventures. School street had a steep hill that we loved to coast our bikes down. The road turned at the bottom of the hill, where a bridge crossed a stream. There was the thrill of being sure to make the turn onto the bridge. If not, we might get wet. I don’t remember anyone riding into the stream. Still, I do remember spending hot days cannonballing off the bridge into the cool water below.

Church Yard Football

The fifth building on my side of Vohland was a church. I don’t remember what denomination, but it had a yard perfect for impromptu football games. We gathered, chose captains, and they chose their teams, and the game was on. The games were tag, but sometimes a tackle got snuck in. Sometimes, the tackle led to a full-scale brawl among the players. But, unlike what sometimes happens now, no one pulled a weapon or hunted anyone down looking for revenge. These were our mates, and we quickly forgot our disagreements.

Prank Gone Wrong

I have many other memories. Among them was the time we found a black snake and scared my sister and her friends with it. My mother punished me for that prank.

Those were the days! Beverly Manor was a great place for me to grow up in.

Bear (11/1/2012-08/25/2021) crossed over the rainbow bridge to doggie heaven this afternoon. There he joined other dogs we have had—Sandy, Misha, Bailey, and King.

How we got him

Bear was a mixed Labrador born in Ohio and brought to Maryland by a local rescue. The rescue posted his story on Facebook, where my daughter, Tiffany, saw it. She knew we had lost our golden retrievers a few years before and thought it was time we became dog people again.

Tiffany went to work on her mom and eventually convinced her to visit the puppy’s foster home. Mom dragged me along and, after a long drive, we arrived. The puppy scampered in and out of the open door, showing off. His antics softened our hard-hearts, and we took the little bundle of energy home with us. Little did we know how he would affect our lives.

Bear was black with white markings on his chest and paws. When adopted, he was a skinny runt that couldn’t have weighed over five pounds. However, he was not a runt but just needed the correct tender care to change.

Bear’s medical problems

I noticed blood in his stools one day. It took two trips to the veterinarian to find out he had worms. These were very small and required specific treatment. He responded well to the treatment and soon grew to be an 80 lb bundle of joy.

Bear blessed us with many beautiful memories when we remember his favorite things.

Favorite things

He loved to play catch and fetch in the house. He had several rubber balls and would bring one, usually, to my wife. Then, he would bark until she threw it across the room. Moments later, he had retrieved it and tossed it in her lap for her to do it again. Sometimes he aggravated her when he wanted to play, and she was on the phone. Many callers have heard his bark in their ears.

I am sure many dogs like to play this game. But what made it special for us was Bear’s ability to toss the ball to her. He would stand near her chair and propel the ball into her lap with a toss of his head.

Sometime years ago, we gave Bear a sponge-like ball that he dragged outside one day. It was softball size and blue. Whenever he and I were out, he would search until he found that dang ball. Then he would toss it at my feet and wait for me to kick it. He was so funny—his head stretched out and eyes locked on the ball like a soccer player anticipating which way the ball would go. I tired of kicking the ball before Bear tired of chasing it.

Weather Dog

Bear didn’t like loud noises and especially disliked thunder. So when he was younger, he would try to climb in one of our laps at odd times. We didn’t particularly mind when he weighed a few pounds, but when he grew to be over 80 pounds—No Way! Then one day, we realized he did this before a thunderstorm arrived. So we began checking the weather when he became agitated. Sure enough, he was predicting a storm’s arrival. So we nicknamed Bear “Our Weather Dog” and found him as reliable as any TV weather reporter.

Bear loved to take walks beside our other lab-mix, Duke. The two of them, both near 100 pounds. They demanded, and I complied with walks regardless of the weather. So you could see them walking me down the street in rain, snow, or sunshine.

This reminds me that Bear loved playing in the snow. We have videos of Bear on the back deck doing snow angels.

Bear, we miss you and your antics, but are relieved that you are no longer suffering. Truth, there were few antics over the past two weeks. It was time to let you go and to take solace in the memories you gave us.

It was inadequate to gain the day recognized as a national holiday. Although they declared Mother’s Day a national holiday in 1914, Father’s Day languished as a celebration. After multiple attempts over the years to have it declared a holiday, President Richard Nixon signed the law making it a national holiday in 1972.

Father’s Day with a Dad in the Navy (See more here)

I don’t remember many years I celebrated his day with my father. He made the U. S. Navy a career and spent most of the year gone. I never learned why the decision to locate us in Illinois while he did his tours of duty at sea and shore far from us. It was always a treat when he took leave, sometimes 30 days in a year, at home. When he deployed, he sent many letters and gifts from exotic places such as Thailand, Japan, Singapore, and others I can’t remember. We sent him letters and cards to let him know how much we missed him. We signed every letter with love. (You can read more about my father during my early years here.)

My Father Francis Leo Knott

Dad at Great Lakes

In the early 1960s, Dad transferred to Great Lake Illinois just a three to three and half hour drive away. He came home the standard 30 days a year plus at least a weekend every month. His presence often gave me contradictory feelings. As the oldest, I was the man of the house except for those 30 days. Dad relieved me of that responsibility year-round since he came home often enough to influence events throughout the year. Thinking back, I probably resented the demotion. His tour at Great Lakes lasted three years before he received orders to the USS Kearsarge (CV33).

1966 – 2002

I joined the Navy in 1966. Either join the Navy or let the Army draft me. I spent boot camp in San Diego, California. I spent a few days with my father while I was there. One day, he took me to see his ship, the aircraft carrier, the USS Kearsarge. He gave me a tour of the ship. I transferred to a school on Treasure Island a few weeks later, and he went to Great Lakes for his last assignment before retiring.

He and I were rarely home together even after he retired in 1970. After finishing the Navy schools, it was I who had only 30 days leave a year to spend at home, though my duty assignments overseas often prevented spending those days with my parents.

Things changed after I retired in 1992. My wife and I and two children settled in Maryland. A long drive enabled us to spend many holidays. These short visits brought my father and me closer together than any of the longer 30-day leaves ever did. I lost him on Thanksgiving Day, November 28, 2002.

My Father-in-Law

I met my Father-in-Law in 1973. My wife and I had dated a few times before she introduced us. To say he intimidated me is an understatement. I was 160 pounds on a spindly 6-foot frame. He was an imposing man, big framed, confident, and well versed with firearms. The later I learned when he talked of the shooting events he had won.

He exuded confidence while I shivered in his presence the first few times we spoke. I remember the first time he called me a “Damned Yankee” shook my timbers. He claimed I was the reason the Cowboys lost a Super Bowl to the Steelers. I think he meant the Baltimore Colts. Other times he acted angry, perhaps because I, from Illinois, and a sailor dated his daughter. In time, it became an inside joke we shared until he passed in 2007. In time, I became comfortable in his presence and enjoyed our conversations.

Father’s Day today

My Father and my Father-in-Law were men I spent far less time with than I now wish I had. They left indelible imprints on my life. Men of integrity who honored their commitment to family and country. They created this holiday to honor men such as my father and my father-in-law.

To the millions of fathers, may you have a wonderful and memorable Father’s Day!

Let us not forget women who are, both, mother and father to those in their lives.

Do you have a favorite memory of your father? Tell me using the comments form.

I received a Christmas gift of a year subscription to StoryWorth. I receive a question provided by my daughter-in-law to answer each week. At the end of the year, I will have the opportunity to order them and receive a hardback book comprised of the stories.

The first question

“What was your mom like when you were a child.”

My response

My mother was Mary Ruth Harris. She was the daughter of James Frederick Harris and Elizabeth Midkiff.  Trying to create a picture of my Mom when I was young is a kaleidoscope of images. As you read this, remember I am writing about a time before computers, cable, and cell phones.

Mom was a strong, loving, and caring woman who raised four kids while my Dad was gone, serving in the Navy. She kept us clothed and fed. Most importantly, we felt loved.

Sometimes, actually often, things became tight, and she would take a job as a waitress. The oldest, I was the babysitter when she worked.

The color of Mom’s hair when she married Dad is a mystery, but think it was brown. She had a schedule with her hairdresser, and she often tried a new color. The one I remember most is an auburn.

Mom loved children

She was “mother” to almost every kid in the neighborhood. I don’t remember any boy or girl calling her Mrs. Knott.

We had a big fenced backyard, and often we gathered there for a softball game. Mom often settled disputes between teams with an invitation to a soda (soft drink in some vernacular) or a homemade treat.

Mom thought children should enjoy the sunshine and encouraged us to spend most of the day outdoors. Exceptions were if it was raining cats & dogs or a blizzard. We rarely argued since being inside allowed her to find something for us to do. It was more enjoyable doing our thing in the mud puddles or snow than cleaning.

Cleaning was a team effort, according to Mom. My brother Cletus got stuck with dusting and sometimes sweeping or vacuuming. I always had to help Mom with waxing the floors. I spent many evenings on my knees in the wax remover, scraping away the old before we could put down the new. The twins claimed to be too young and just stayed out of the way!

Mom and her pistol

My uncle had made part of the basement a gunshop. One night we thought someone had gotten into it.  Mom took her pistol and went into the basement. Well, there was another noise, and my Mom shot two holes in the door to his shop. My uncle checked the shop the next day and found no trace anyone had been in it. We never found what caused the noise.

Fred the Ghost

Mom often told us the house had ghosts. She would recount the things “Fred” did. When she and Dad sold the house and moved to Washington, she said Fred went with her. I don’t remember the name, but she once said George had company in the new house. The stories started after my grandfather died in her bedroom.

Mom had a garden at the new house. She and Dad canned vegetables and made jams and jellies. She would send jars of each to the local Catholic Church for the priest and nuns. The nuns taught the elementary school I attended.

Mom became very generous after Dad retired and began working for the post office. She had the income to be so. I don’t know how she learned of families in need, but  Mom would send food, clothes, or/and money when she did. When asked, Mom would say the money came from “her sock.” It always seemed to have a few dollars and never ran out. She said, “a good deed will be returned many times over.” I think she paraphrased a biblical passage.

Mom became set in her ways in her later years, and sometimes ruffled feathers. I forgive her those times as I remember all the love she gave us when most needed.

Something to share

There is a comment form for your use should you have something you would like to share. I look forward to hearing from you. Remember, you can like or share this story.

Dwane’s Grandparents and Parents

A long time ago, Elizabeth Midkiff and James Frederick Harris had a beautiful daughter named Mary Ruth in Owensboro, Kentucky. The date was 23 January 1927. Almost two months later, Johanna Mae Elder and Hilary Oswald Knott had a handsome son named Francis Leo. It was 17 April 1927, and the place was Browns Valley, Kentucky. Mary and Francis, who everyone called Leo, are my parents.

Mary and Francis married on 17 August 1946 in Owensboro. I was born in October the next year. My brother Cletus James was born on 9 June 1949 and the twins, Mary Paula and Joseph Paul, on 3 December 1952. The four of us born in Owensboro. Early in 1952, the family moved to Peoria, Illinois.

We lived on NE Adams street in an apartment until my parents bought a house on Vohland Street in Beverly Manor, Illinois. We moved in the summer of 1953, in time for me to begin first grade at St. Patrick’s Elementary School in Washington, Illinois. Cletus and the twins followed when they reached school age.

Lori’s Grandparents and Parents

A long time ago, a beautiful daughter was born on 27 July 1933 to Mary Elizabeth Neubauer and Robert Joseph Green in Donna, Texas. They named her Virginia Louise. James Alexander, Jr, a handsome boy, was born to Margaret Sarah Sherlock and James Alexander Cameron, Sr on 31 July 1929 in Minot, North Dakota.  Virginia and James Jr. are my wife’s parents.

Virginia and James met in Corpus Christi, Texas, and were married there on 29 July 1950.  They had three children born in a Corpus Christi hospital. Colin James was born 24 July 1951,  Flora MacLeod (Lori) in January 1954 and Heather Jenny in November 1967.

Virginia and James bought a house on Rosedale Street sometime before Colin was born and lived there all their lives.

I hope you enjoyed the brief glimpse into our family history. Questions or comments are appreciated and enjoyed.

Be safe in this trying time.

What makes up unnecessary travel? One could look at what businesses are open in Maryland. Based on my trips, the following are open.

Necessary Trips!?

I picked up my prescriptions at the Navy pharmacy and shopped for groceries at the base commissary. The pharmacy and commissary are about twenty-seven miles from our home. There were few others on the road at the time of our trip.

My wife and I took advantage of the curbside service Sam’s store offered seniors. We gave our order to one of their employees, and soon another brought it to us. The number of cars in the parking lot, and the number in line, surprised us.  We filled up with gas at Sam’s gas station on our way home.

My wife required an ingredient for dinner, and  I found it at the local Safeway grocery. The store was swarming with people. The store marked the floor to help shoppers maintain social distancing during checkout. It was a busy store with many shoppers.

My wife and I picked up bulk shelled peanuts for our squirrel friends, grass seed, suit, and onion set from the county co-op. I had trouble finding a place to park the first visit, and a little easier the second time—so many finding going to the co-op an essential trip, including me.

My son-in-law and I made a deposit of branches from a down tree in the county. We filled the bed of my truck with limb debris from a tree recently downed. We were one of the few customers.

I should include the farm where we bought fresh free-range eggs. That was a pleasant drive after leaving the interstate through rolling farms, stands of trees. I remember commenting to my wife I hadn’t noticed a car on the road for miles.

We would like to get out more but there are limited places to go. All of the precautions, with the closures, give us very few choices.

COVID-19 Response Necessary?

I hope there will be a serious conversation regarding whether there were better ways to deal with this virus.

The Center for Disease Control and Prevention estimates there were 38 million illnesses, 390,000 hospitalizations, and 23,000 deaths from the latest flu strain as of March 25^th  in the United States alone.  These numbers are like every year’s as additional strains of the flu attack. Yet, we don’t shut down America for it.

COVID-19 has not run its course, and the numbers are still going up. I am sure they will have the numbers eventually. But, will they be able to learn the number of deaths caused by the shutdown? How many who lost their businesses or jobs committed suicide or turned to drugs? What was the increase in domestic abuse? There were severe repercussions from shutting down America besides those attributed to the virus.

Your thoughts about the shutdown. Have you been out during this trying time? Share with me using the comment form.

“Septuagenarian versus the coronavirus” might make a movie title for life today. Perhaps it should be “Coronavirus against the earth.”

Life normal

I am a septuagenarian plus and my wife in her mid-sixties. The first news stories brought few cares, and our lives remained unaffected. We shopped per usual, bowled in our leagues, and went out to eat with friends without care. Our lives continued as usual even after the first fatalities in Washington State.

Seniors against coronavirus

Stories online noted that seniors, those in our age group, were not demonstrating fear commensurate with the danger the virus presented to our age group. Proven by the number of seniors, over sixty, who showed every Monday morning to bowl in the league my wife manages. Over one hundred seniors bowled each week until this morning.  I will never know how many would have shown today, but the military base shut down leagues for fourteen days. I suspect many would have.

Homebound

Here we are almost homebound. Homebound, not because of an inability to leave, but because there is a lack of places to go. Maryland’s governor announced the closing of many facilities, including restaurants. He also has placed restrictions on the group size to fifty. More restrictions may come. Between league cancellations and all of the mandated closings, we have no place we want to visit, homebound.

We are currently healthy and not in need of testing for the virus. I am hopeful that as we spend less time out, we will never need a test.

How is the current state of emergency affecting you? Share!

Happy New Year!

The refrain rang around the world as the clocks struck midnight locally. Millions attended parties to celebrate the start of a new year. Some celebrated the start of a new decade, while others celebrated the start of the last year of the decade. Whatever your feelings, everyone cheered at the stroke of midnight.

My wife and I celebrated the ball drop on 2019. We look forward to a great 2020.

Today is a day of remembrance for those who knew my wife’s father, James Alexander Cameron, Jr. He passed thirteen years ago, 1 January 2007.

Kiliane, the protagonist in my novel, provided a wish for the coming year in an interview by yours truely. “I wish for everyone to be safe in 2020. I know It is a vain wish for it is not the nature of the world. Some will suffer from a disease, others accidents, and some will be victims of crime. Still, it is my wish you and your loved ones remain safe this year.“

Does anyone else remember an old man representing the passing year, and a baby in diapers the new year?  I missed them this year.

Use the comment form if you remember them or want to enter the debate on whether 2020 is the end of a decade or start of another. I look forward to hearing from you.

One of the curses of living is watching our family and friends pass from this life. Today I attended a funeral for a friend, a man I have known for nearly thirty years.

Goodbye Friend

During those years, he and I competed against each other in bowling leagues and together in tournaments. My first trip to Las Vegas was to bowl on a team with him in a tournament. He was a great competitor and fought cancer until his body could fight no more. He will be missed by family and friends of all ages.

I listened to the Chaplin extolling his life as related by family. I found interesting he, like me, retired from the military. He continued service to the country working for an intelligence agency. I worked as a contractor for an intelligence service.

We fathered a son and a daughter. We have grandchildren, nieces, nephews, cousins, and friends. The correspondence wasn’t lost to me. One day, a chaplin will stand in front of a group of my family and friends and eulogize me.  The details will be similar but personal to me.

Enough melancholy, life is to be enjoyed. I love mine and I am not ready to leave the fun behind. Yes, heaven is waiting, and I desire to make it there one day. But as the song goes, “Everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to go right now.” I prefer to attend my funeral many years in the future, thank you!

I provide a comment form and encourage you to share things of interest to you.