On The Bean Farm In Colorado Before Brother Pat Arrived
John (Slim) Blackwell, Lois Blackwell, & Jerry
These writing are about some of my best memories of my dad.
My last blog spoke of my dad, this time I'm writing about some of My memories I have retained of my dad in the short 17 years I was able to spend with him as he passed away from cancer of the throat June 16 1959 at the age of 47.
If you remember back in the fifties (in Valsetz) when a truck load of planner ends would be delivered to your home, more than likely it was your chore ( and as I hated it) to stack it in the wood shed. Your mother used this wood to cook your meals, and the wood your dad keep throwing into the furnace or wood stove to keep your family warm. The Man that brought that wood to you by the truck load WAS MY DAD John H. Blackwell known as Slim!
April 24 1912 was the month dad started life and left life in June 16 1959, 2 years after the loss of my brother Patrick Leon in June of 1957.
My memory of dad begin before our family got to Valsetz, I must have been about 5 or 6 years old.
I remember riding down this old dirt road with mom and dad heading to our bean farm when dad spotted a pheasant sitting in the middle of the road. No not a local person but a foul, a bird. Dad hit the gas not the break, the old Chev pickup hit the bird head on right smack in the top of the grill as the pheasant tried to fly out of the way of the pickup. After stopping the pickup dad and mom jumped out, mom grabbed that pheasant dad grabbed a small tub from the bed of the truck. Mom got back in the truck putting the bird on the floor board of the truck then covering it with the tub. Dad said, "son we having a special dinner tonight".
Years later I found out it was not pheasant season, and that was why the bird went under the tub not in it, which was lucky because the bird was not dead but just knocked unconscious for a long time. When that bird came out of his stupor all hell came from the tub. if he would have been in it the tub there may have been serious injury to one or all of us.
The first time I can remember dad loosing his temper (and the last time) was when the the three of us (there was no brother at that time) again on the dirt road dad slammed on the brakes of the old pickup. Before the old truck came to to a complete stop dad was out of the truck swearing and jumping around like a crazy man. dad then pulled the hood off that old Chevy and tossed it over a barbwire fence.
At that moment mom said"your dad has lost his temper " after dad got the hood back on the old Chevy and as he was climbed back into the truck. "I ask him if he had found his temper". with this (if you knew my dad) that big smile came out then dad said "Yes son I did, let's go home".
Dad and the other farmers did a lot of deer hunting at night not only was it at night but was not during hunting season.
I remember going out and riding in back of the old pickup and spotlighting deer. Mom and the lady folks of dad's friends butchering and canning the venison. For the ones that don't know what venison is, it's deer meat, Bambi. Venison was a main staple of the farmers in the forties And earlier years.
Not only was deer hunting for food but it helped to keep the deer population down saving their crops.
I remember when Dad became quite sick during harvesting season of the pinto beans. All the hired hands except one white guy ( dad's jack of all trades Foreman) were local Navajo from the near by reservation. they had camp just a few hundred yards from the main farm house.
I remember one day dad came home very sick and spent the day and night in bed.The Navajo spent all night showed how concerned and how much they liked my dad that night when they began trying to drive the sickness spirits from dad's body.
It must have worked, dad was up the next day and telling mom he was working no matter how bad he felt because he was not about to be keep awake another night with the whooping and dancing all night.
I can remember how I played my dad when he took me into town on a Saturday where he spent the afternoon playing cards with friends. Dad would drop me off at the movie theater then he went to play poker. I had it made movie money plus goodies money.
I learned real quick that after the show was over to find dad before spending the money I had left over from the movies. I would find dad playing poker,as usual. I then would walk up behind him and observe the game for a few minutes then tug on his arm and say"dad are you ready to go home yet? I want to go now". Dad would look at me and and say" son I can't leave right now, take this and have some fun". Depending how much longer he was to play poker was the deciding factor of how much money he gave me not if he was winning or loosing. There was times he played longer then he expected, then I was back again tugging on his arm. It worked ever time! Not once did my dad make me believe he was upset with me.
Dad always had a heart of gold no mater what or who you wereI remember only one time dad let me down. A good friend of the family and dad was building dad a boat ( If you read my blog about Mr. Brown, this is the boat I used) I spent some time helping them but should have helped more. They finished the boat just about the time fishing season was to start.
To kick off fishing season in Valsetz they had what was called the Fisherman's Ball, as they did come hunting season, (also called Fisherman's Brawl and of coarse hunters brawl).
As most fishermen do in Valsetz they attend this Ball drinking & dancing. Well dad did as others had done those nights, drank way to much and couldn't get out of bed the next morning.
After I became a young adult and become a member of the Polk Co. Sheriff's office I worked these festivities and was able to understand what happened to dad. Perhaps I will blog about these balls at a later date.
Come the next morning my brother and I was up at dawn, and very exited about going fishing in our new boat. As time ticked by hour after hour our disappointment mounted. About noon dad emerged from his room looking worse than I had ever seen him before. With apologies flowing about not taking us fishing. By 3 PM Pat and I were fishing with dad and our new boat.
My Christmas gift during my eight grade year in Valsetz I received a 22 rifle. I wanted a deer rifle but I enjoyed many hours with that 22.
Come freshman year I wanted to play football more than hunting.
Mom was against me playing and I'm sure she put dad between a rock and hard place. A week or so before foot ball practice dad and mom set me down and made me the following offer.Dad Said " son mom don't want you playing football she don't want you to get hurt. If you don't play I will give you my old 3230 deer rifle. (I flashed back) dad using that gun in Colorado on the bean farm. I accepted the deal. I don't know who looked the sadder, dad or me. I moped around the house the next few days. I had not touched the rifle sense the deal I made with my folks. Some how dad knew I was unhappy with the deal and finally could not contain him-self. Dad told me "I'm sorry about you not playing football I want you playing and you don't have to stick with the deal we made.( with that Dad's famous grin appeared) he went on to say you keep the rifle I will handle your mom". I could see mom was pissed at dad for a few days.
I was very happy to see both my mom and dad at the games. I only had one injury ( a sprained ankle ) Both mom and dad was at that game. After the game Not a word was said about me getting hurt.
Each memory brings to mind another wonderfully memory of my dad.
When I see a child throw a temper today (this is like ever time I'm in public) I always think
back to how my folks handled the situation in a swift
manor with one swift swat to the butt.
One night dad was replacing a lamp cord and having a tough time of it. My brother & I was not helping with our foolishness. After a few warnings dad grabbed the light cord, I was in my shorts, and dad nailed my butt good with one swing. Dad instantly begin apologising
then I blew it. I said " the hell you are" YES, Dad nailed me again. That was the last time dad ever heard me swear again.
I will write about this one last memory and close this blog. There is more family memories I will write about at a later date.
I believe it was during summer before my freshman year one of Valsetz mills longest strike took effect. This strike hurt many of the Valsetz workers. My dad and mother worked in the fields to get us Thu until the strike was over. Even when the strike ended we were in bad times and very short on cash. My family was just getting by.
After football season was over there was the traditional letters being given out to the players. At that time the letter was put on a Letterman's sweater if you owned one. As a freshman I of coarse had none. I knew of coarse that money was tight and there was no way I would have a sweater to wear to that event.
Come the night of this event after dinner Dad said" its was time to go and get Jerry's letter". With that dad excused him-self leaving the room. Mom started talking and I told her I had to get my coat. as I started out in came dad wearing his big grin and a blue and gold Letterman's sweater with a gold cougar on the back.
That night could have been 100 plus degrees I would have never taken that sweater off.
I believe my dad was the best father any kid could ever have. I have always wondered what it would have been to spend more of my teen and adult life with my dad. John (Slim ) Blackwell
The man that Valsetz loved
The man I've tried to live up to That was my Dad
