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A Daughters Love

RIP DAD

You will always be my hero.

How I got my love and understanding of the Military came from my Dad.

He served in the Navy.

I learned at a young age we were protected, and with that came a price. Some Soldiers didn’t come home to their loved ones. That is why everyday at School when we Pledged Allegiance to the Flag. My voice shone with pride and conviction.

One day my Teacher Mrs. Souza took me aside and told me I didn’t need to shout it. I told her I did because I was Proud. I was in the 3rd grade then.

I loved looking at my Dad in his dress uniform.

That photo was held by me often.

When it was time to go get a Poppy, I always was the one to go with my Dad. He would always announce — Sandra Ann , you know what day it is.

We went to Frazier’s on Main St. and got poppies. I can’t remember if he got one for my Mom or Brother. Dad would want to pin it on right away.

I demurred, as I wanted to study it as always. I would hold it in my palm. Slide my fingers over the petals. So glossy. They made them shiny red. I don’t know if they were made of card board? The center was black. How they made it; I don’t know. It had tons of very minute little balls all together that made the center. I told my Father I was ready to have it put on.

We then drove to my Grandfathers grave, who I never got to know. He was a Politician, and held Office in town.

They owned the Insurance Agency in town and land on Brookfield Rd. Where Mom and Dad were going to build us a home. I have to stop this story now, as I’m tired. I will try and finish this this tomorrow with how we prepared our Grandfather’s Grave every year, so you can all see where I’m coming from on this. Love Sandy.

Getting back to my story, every Memorial Day, we loaded up in our car, with Geranium flowers, A big tin watering can, and some tools.

We went to my Grandfathers Grave. My Dad dug up the grass; the Earth underneath was a dark rich brown. We tapped the pot holding the Geraniums. They had to be bright red, not orange. My Father planted them with a sure hand.

Then my Brother and I got sent down to a spigot to fill the can with water. It took both of us, as we were little to go up the hill to walk along the road in the Cemetery to the Grave sight. After my Dad watered them, we knelt down to say Prayers.

I can honestly say I never complained. It was always a sunny day. We were happy to be able to help out. We were there as a Family, and my Father was happy to do it. And it was stunning, when it was finished.

AND we came back every Saturday to give the flowers 🌺 a drink !

Harold was a great friend of mine, one of the best athletes the area ever saw.

Comment by Vern Smith (RIP)