There’s a hay bale sitting in the ditch just off of Highway 15 when you pull onto the main access road going into Conquest. It’s falling apart due to the wind and other elements, and by my estimates, it’s probably been there for at least a month and change.
When I pass by it on my way home every day, I think of my dad.
I think of my dad because one of our favourite father/son “activities” when I was a teenager was driving around the Conquest area and picking up loose bales that had fallen off trucks and trailers. Dad would go out for an early morning Saturday drive around the area, and he’d come home, wake me up and tell me of his latest “find”.
Jack’s reasoning, I believe, was the tried-and-true ‘finders keepers’ mentality, and for us, it was free food for our horses.
Looking back on it, I just have to laugh. Didn’t most dads just play catch with their kids?
My father would've been 85 years old last Friday. That's a baffling realization and a reminder of just how fast the years have gone by.
Jack wasn't like most dads because he was already north of 50 by the time I was born, having already fathered my older sisters and brothers, so when I was growing up, the phrase "my old man" was pretty much on point when it came to JR. That being said, I was pretty confident that he still could've taken down of all my friends' dads.
I can't say there were games of catch or very many "heart to heart" moments between my dad and I. He came from a generation of gruff, blue-collar men that mostly showed their love by providing for their families; a roof over my head, food in my stomach and probably way too many material goods that my parents managed to miraculously find and pay for anyway. Jack showed his love by doing things to make sure his family enjoyed a life that he certainly wasn’t able to have when he was growing up. We were always taken care of and we never really wanted for anything.
No, Dad's life lessons didn't necessarily come from speeches; rather, he showed how to be a decent human being in this world by, well, being a decent human being in this world. It really wasn’t rocket science to him; help those around you when you can, show that you give a damn about something from time to time, don't back down when things get tough, and always, ALWAYS have a tube of Brylcreem handy for your hair. Sometimes it's the littlest things about your parents that you pick up and take with you into adulthood.
I suppose work out at the barn just north of Conquest was where my dad and I really clicked. My brothers and I had always been Jack's "free labour workers" as kids, but once I got my license and Dad gave me his old '79 Chevy (Brown Betty), the horses became my responsibility after school every day, and he'd help where and when he could because at that time, Jack was the local mailman.
Dad's gift-giving style was probably something else that modern-day parenting would look at in pure horror. Many of you, especially those who were at Jack's funeral, know the "axe story". Long story short: my dad gave me an axe for Christmas one year. Now I know that Pinterest-dwelling mothers and narrow-minded bloggers would probably drag Dad through the mud on that one today, but it was simply a father buying his son a tool for the work that needed to be done, which was chopping ice out of the water trough at the barn every day.
Chores out at the barn taught me consistency and the value of a hard day's work, and some of my first real "paychecks" came from Jack himself in my teen years.
I learned to respect and admire my father not just because of what he did for me in my life, but I learned to respect the generation that he came from, and those kinds of men and women are people that I believe are sorely missing from today.
I learned so much from Jack, and so many of his traits are ones that I hope I can carry on when I have kids of my own one day. I'm looking forward to instilling the same straight-forward values and telling my kids all about their grandpa, who sadly they'll never have the good fortune to meet.
Happy Birthday, Dad.
For this week, that’s been the Ruttle Report.
