happy father's day, daddy....

There's just something special about the relationship between a Daddy and his little girl.  Fathers feel especially protective of their daughters and that doesn't change no matter how old you get.  It took me a long time to really appreciate my Daddy for who he is.  In fact, it took about 40 years.  In my earlier years we didn't have much of a relationship.  I think in many ways religion kept us apart.  He wasn't big on church and well, church was my whole life.  I'm ashamed to say that set me up for a "holier-than-thou" attitude and so I spent years judging my own father just because he liked to have a beer every night. And yet, I never went without as a child.  Daddy saw to it that I had a "princess room" complete with a canopy bed.  If I wanted something and it was within his power to get it, then it was mine.  

Daddy grew up poor on the streets of Miami, FL.  He was raised, along with his younger brother and sister, by an alcoholic grandfather and a very strong, opinionated grandmother that he called "Nana".  By the time he graduated high school he knew if he wanted a life he would have to join the military.  So off to Parris Island he went to become a US Marine.  This further shaped him into the man he is.  Loud, opinionated, tells it like it is, and yet he would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it.  This was the Daddy who always made sure I had a dime in my pocket in case I needed to call him.

Daddy has always loved guns and has had quite the collection ever since I can remember.  He keeps them locked up in a gun-cabinet where they are safe from curious little hands.   Daddy spends a lot of time at the shooting range but he lives for hunting season.  Whether it's squirrels or deer, you will always find him in the woods on opening day.  And yes, he would always bring home his "kill" wherewith we would then get to partake of fried squirrel or venison stew.  I always found squirrel to be a bit chewy and I could totally live without venison.  Never could get used to that "wild" taste.

One day I got to see daddy's hunting skills up close and personal when a rabid dog got loose in our neighborhood.  Everyone was scared to death until the day that dog showed up in our driveway foaming at the mouth and growling.  Daddy promptly got one of his rifles and shot that dog on the spot.  You could hear the echo ring out for what seemed like miles.  I cried even though I understood it had to be done. Daddy was brave that day.  He saved the whole neighborhood.  And I couldn't have been more proud.

As for pets, Daddy always had a fish tank.  This was about as close to having a pet as I got tho we did have a couple of dogs when I was little.  I remember one named Lady who lived in our fenced-in backyard.  I'm not sure whatever happened to her.  Then I got a little puppy which I named Butterball but she got ran over and that was the end of us having dogs so fish it was.  It seems dad's favorite fish were guppies.  One time the fish tank cracked and we came home to find guppies all over the carpet.  In no time though, Daddy had another fish tank up and running.  And I couldn't help but notice this tank was even bigger than the one before.

One of my favorite times growing up was Halloween.  Daddy was really good at homemade costumes.  One year he fixed me up has a hobo.  He took charcoal from the grill and dirtied my face up then packed me up a  hobo bag and off I went trick-or-treating.  Another year he made me a witch.  It was fun having a green face.  I think if there had been a best-costume contest I would have surely won.  I suppose it was his artistic ability that made him so good at face art.  He could look at anything and draw it.  One of my favorite things about daddy was when he would write poems and draw Disney characters.  He's always had a creative streak that I loved.  

Donald William Pratt is now 75 yrs. old.  He's bald with piercing blue eyes and a hearty laugh who loves to tell jokes and give advice.  He is fiercely loyal to those he loves.  And I am proud to say he has been my father for 47 years.  Even though we live hundreds of miles apart I know he's always just a phone call away.  And If I really needed him he would be in his truck headed to NC in a heartbeat.  Daddys make their little girls feel protected, even when we're grown women.  I am thankful to still have my Dad around and I just wanted to take this day to honor him.  Happy Father's Day, Daddy.

I love you,
Poochie

remembering granny...

I grew up in the Deep South of Mississippi on the Gulf Coast, but every couple months or so Mama, Daddy, and I would take off to Ovett which was "up in the country" to visit Granny and all my Aunts, Uncles, and cousins.  It usually took about an hour and a half to get there so we would leave on a Friday evening after they got off work and stay until Sunday afternoon.  I remember in the Winter months Granny would always have a big pot of homemade soup made... vegetable beef with a big pone of cornbread to go with it.  It was nourishment both for the soul and the body.

Granny didn't have central heat and air so in the winter she kept a woodstove burning.  One Fall before Grandpa died in a head-on collision due to a drunk-driver, he chopped a bunch of extra wood and kept it in a woodpile out beside the house.  It was as if he knew his time was close.  Whenever Granny would open the door to that woodstove to throw in more wood, the heat would rush out to greet you.  The coals were a hot, burning red like the flames of hell.  I remember thinking I definitely didn't wanna go there.

Every Saturday night it was a tradition to watch "Hee Haw".  I can still see that old coon dog on the front porch as Roy Clark and the gang sang, "Gloom, Despair, and Agony on me"....

This was in the days before cable TV so you were lucky to get 3 channels especially out in the country and even that was only if you had a pair of "rabbit ears".  Luckily Granny did so we never missed Hee Haw.

Being an only child I was always excited to see my cousins, Gary Jr., Laura Kay, and Chelsea (prounounced "Chel-se-uh").  They were my first best friends and the siblings I never had.  I was 8 months younger than Chelsea and 4 yrs. older than Gary Jr.  Laura Kay was 5 yrs. younger than me and the baby of the group.  That is until years later when cousin Amanda came along.  We would entertain ourselves running back and forth down the rows of corn or hiding in the barn, always stuff we shouldn't be doing.  One thing Granny didn't like was us running in and out.  She would holler, "You youngins' either come in or stay out, but quit that runnin' back and forth!"

One of my favorite things was when Granny would hand us kids some old tin buckets and tell us to go pick blackberries.  We always knew what this meant.  Homemade blackberry cobbler and believe you me, nobody could make a cobbler like Granny. In spite of the mosquitoes and the red bugs we would pick until our pails were full then run back to the house proud as a peacock to show Granny how much we'd gotten.  That night, sure enough, we would eat our supper then have blackberry cobbler for dessert.

One thing about Granny, she may have grown up poor but she was a hard-workin' woman.  She passed this trait down to her 5 children who were my Uncle Wyatt, Aunt Cybil, Mama, who was Sarah Jane, and Mama's twin brother, Jimmy, who died at age 14 when he climbed a light pole on a dare by his baby brother, my Uncle Gary, and was electrocuted.  They said Granny like to have never gotten over that.  I suppose second behind her would be mama, being that it was her twin and all.

Sometimes Granny would drive down to the coast by herself and come see us.  On one such occasion she and I were outside hanging up the clothes to dry.  Something had been weighing on my mind that I was dying to know.  See, Granny had gotten married when she was only 14 yrs. old to Grandpa who was 10 years older than her.  Basically he was a grown man and she was still just a girl.  Finally I worked up my nerve and asked her if it hurts "the first time" and she didn't bat an eye.  She exclaimed, "Yeah, it hurts when they pop the cherry!"  Just what I thought.

Granny drove a beautiful cherry red Mercury Zephyr with white leather interior.  When it came time for driving lessons she didn't hesitate to let me take her car out on the dirt road by her house.  She sat on the passengers side and instructed me what to do.  I drove the whole mile and a half to the end of the road and back, bare feet and all.  Granny always had what we call a "lead foot" and I think I learned that from her.  We both liked to drive fast which is why mama always told me, "Donna Jane, you drive like a bat out of hell."  Blame Granny.

One of my favorite times of year was October cause that meant the county fair was coming to town.  Mama didn't care much for the rides but Granny would ride anything!  I remember us getting on the "Rampage" which was a very popular ride in the 70's.  It was kinda like a double ferris-wheel.  Watch here:

I thought I had the coolest Granny ever because even though she was old, she wasn't scared of anything.  

It's been 9 years now since Granny passed in May of 2003.  She had a stroke and couldn't take care of herself anymore.  That meant Mama, Aunt Cybil and Aunt Nettie (Uncle Gary's wife) would rotate every 3 weeks taking turns one week at a time.  Luckily they all lived right there near each other on the old home place so it worked out good for everyone.  Eventually Granny got so feeble they couldn't handle her anymore so off to a nursing home she went.  Mama cried and cried over that.  

Now all I have are my precious memories and a few of Granny's old quilts that she made by hand.  I look forward to seeing her again one day in Heaven.  It's hard to believe so many of my loved ones have already gone on.  Grandpa, Uncle Wyatt, Pa Bill (my stepfather), Uncle Jimmy, and Granny.  Her real name was Ida Mae West.  I love you, Granny.  Thanks for all the great times.