Losing Dad's trust was tough, but I'm grateful I got it back

To the editor:

The lack of strong Fathers in the Godly ordained families, weakens families which are the backbone of our American Republic. Some dads need to be both mother and father. Such was the case with my dad. Growing up the youngest of three boys, my Dad was my hero. Son of a ship carpenter on the Ohio River, Dad was a quiet man nicknamed "Slim." He was a man who lived what people spoke of him: "If you don't like Slim, something's wrong with you."

He may have had a 6th grade education and a small stature, but he was big and strong in moral character and God-given abilities. He suffered the loss of a son before I was born and his wife, my mom, died of cancer. Because of bad health, he was forced to quit his job of 24 years in Cincinnati and move to Tampa where wages for a 40 year old dropped by a third. In Florida, there was no industry demand for canned food machinery mechanics. My Dad did what a man does, he worked the job that was available.

He was a self-taught master of building trades and overhauled the engine of his 1941 Chevrolet. This helped him land mostly gas station jobs where he would work over 80 hours a week for 40 bucks. He married again, but my stepmother up and left him and us three boys after only 3 years. Some weeks my Dad would work 12 hours, seven days and the next he would work 12 hours, six days. On that day off, dad would cook a good meal. Every chance he could he'd teach us everything he did as a kid: gardening, raising rabbits, and homing pigeons to keep us out of trouble.

My adolescence followed the trend described by Mark Twain's wit, a boy at 14 saying, "My father is the dumbest man in the world. Now that I'm 21, it's surprising how smart my dad got in the past 7 years." My actions spoke much louder than the words. I would cut 3 or 4 lawns for 50 cents an hour, even worked odd jobs for 30 cents an hour. Folks thought I was a good kid, but inside I was rotten. After my stepmother and he split, with too much freedom, I began smoking and skipping school in the 9th grade. I was a rebel with no other cause than myself. In the 10th grade, the honor system for being absent was tailor made for this dishonest teen. Going to a movie for 9 cents or going fishing only cost 10 cents for a pole and 10 cents for bait - fishing all day at Ballas Point Pier and talking to all the old timer fishermen was better than going to school.

The Dean of Boys tolerated me brazenly dropping absentee slips on his desk until I put "skipped 35 days in a row" on his desk that totaled 76 days in the semester. The Dean finally called me out for what I was, a liar. I was scared to go back to school, but for some reason the Dean of Boys liked me.

After a 12-hour shift greasing cars, Dad received a phone call that his son didn't attend school for over two months. I'll never forget his response to my words, "I'm sorry." He cut deep saying, "you're not sorry, I'm trying to keep our family together, and I can't even trust you to go to school." For 6 weeks, every time he looked at me, the same words came out of his mouth ending in, "I can't trust you." Going to all those 9 cent movies and going fishing at Ballas Point Pier had been fun, but the price of my betraying Dad's trust sunk in deep. Two years late, after quitting twice, I was the first in my family to graduate from high school. I'll never forget marching to the graduation march Pomp and Circumstance. As I walked by my dad, I grabbed his hand. Tough love finally turned my life around. I had gained his trust.

Leaving home and joining the Army in 1959, I didn't know that there was only 16 years of Dad's life left. Four kids and a wife in a station wagon to see him on vacations only blessed me to be with him less than 30 days of his life. I remember thinking when my brother financed my trip to Ohio for his funeral, I'm doing better than Dad who had to work in Florida the day his mother was buried in Ohio. My Dad modeled how to love and loved me by telling me the truth. His love turned my life around. Today when I think about my dad, and what I used to be, the tears still flow. Even though he wasn't a Christian, that I know of, I hope to God someday I'll be half the man he was. The world is a much better because William Leon Payne lived in it for 70 years. A life that represents the builders of Americas heritage. Once there were such men. May God bless us with more like him!

- Russ Payne,

Merrimack