TheBanyanTree: My Father

[Jena Norton]

Tom, so many of us were fortunate to have fathers of that generation. My
father had flat feet and did not go to war. However, he worked in cotton
mills and was considered in a strategic job.  I think our fathers would have
had much to talk about, Especially about their children...........

Jena Norton

-----Original Message-----
From: thebanyantree-bounces at lists.remsset.com
[mailto:thebanyantree-bounces at lists.remsset.com] On Behalf Of Tom Smith
Sent: Saturday, June 16, 2012 6:04 PM
To: Banyan Tree
Subject: TheBanyanTree: My Father

My father had many roles in his hour upon the stage.  In high school he was
on the boxing and gymnastics teams and earned perfect report cards. He
admired teachers and was an enthusiastic student.  After graduating he
signed up with the
CCC and fought forest fires.   Old letters and a diary tell 
these stories with his own young voice.

When WWII broke out he enlisted in the Navy and was trained as a technician
in the then-new field of radar.  At age 22 he was promoted to Chief and was
aboard the USS Franklin during an attack that killed 800 of her crew and
made this ship the most heavily damaged aircraft carrier to survive the war.

He supported his family in civilian life after the war as an electrical
engineer, and later taught electronics and radar to sailors.  He told me
that of all the kinds of work he had done, teaching was the most fulfilling
and enjoyed.

He was an avid photographer and put on family slide shows.  He created his
own darkroom and I remember his miracle-sharing excitement as an image
appeared on submerged paper. His photographs of Japan before and during the
Korean War reveal an ability to see spirit.
     
Vital pursuits that I have enjoyed as their own reward were introduced to me
by him.  Music lessons at an early age resulted later in my violin bow
moving in synch with others in the high school orchestra.  When he rounded
me up to go to a library, the emotional energy was that of a treasure hunt. 
Books have enabled me to live lives beyond my own, in places without
boundary. I discovered time could be halted with the camera he gave me.
Christmas 1958 he gave me a new 5-yr diary with a lock and promised time
would add value to what I wrote.
   
Things he said had powerful influence. As an 8-yr old, I believed and acted
on his emphatic declaration: "You don't have to take crap from ANYBODY."
I've been more inclined to sing to my own son "Know when to hold'em, know
when to fold'em." 
Experience has all too often validated his warning: "You will have plenty of
time to regret a move made in haste."  When he was a grandfather I asked
what he had wanted to attain in life, and he said "Wisdom."

Now, a weathered shoulder-width bronze rectangle states his name, the first
and last days of his life, and "U.S. Navy WWII."  The marker represents so
little of him that I feel
foolish there.   Remembering is the best visit.  Thank you, Dad.

image at:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/9482738@N07/7383025412