Childhood Stories

My grandparents (on my dad's side) are still in town from their Thanksgiving visit and, as is tradition, we all went out to eat last night to Infusino's in Racine (love their pizza!). Somehow we got to talking about stories of when my dad was a kid, and I was absolutely humbled by what I heard. I always knew my dad grew up poor; they lived on a farm with no indoor bathroom, he helped the cooks in the school cafeteria so he could eat lunch, etc. But I had no idea just how bad it was. It's hard for me to picture my dad, the way I knew him most of my life, as a child in the circumstances my grandparents described.

My grandma was talking about the winters in their farmhouse, and how they would wake up with frost covering their mouths because the fire in the stove went out in the middle of the night. Their four boys - my dad and his 3 brothers - never believed in Santa Claus because there were never any Christmas gifts to speak of. Never had a Christmas tree to light or decorations to hang ... unless you count the tumbleweed they somehow found one year, which they spray-painted white and decorated with strings of popcorn and cheerios. If they wanted to shower in the summer, they had to wait for the sun to heat a pot of water and then share the water amongst the four siblings. In the winter, they simply had to spot-bathe inside. And you better believe they learned to "hold it" when going to the bathroom entailed bundling up and treking out to the outhouse.

Their poverty wasn't so much a product of the times -- my mom grew up at the same time in a very average, upper middle-class home -- but rather the life of a farmer at that time. And you know what? Not once have I heard my dad complain about his childhood. He didn't let his circumstances stop him from being the high school basketball star, the homecoming king, a college graduate, or (later in life) a businessowner. He came a long way from his humble beginnings, but after hearing all that he went without as a child, I know that I would have been a very bitter child, a whiner, a complainer if I were in his circumstances. Heck, I'm all of those things and I grew up having every basic need met, and sooo much more! Kind of makes me wonder if my dad ever thought his own kids were ungrateful, spoiled, or selfish. We grew up with so much more than he ever had, and yet we appreciated things so much less. I miss his calm demeanor, his gratefulness in all circumstances, his way of putting things into perspective. And all the more now, when I realize in a bit more detail just what his perspective was ...

It's easy to see where he got these attributes from when you look at my grandparents, who have recently lost 2 of their 4 sons and yet have an unwavering faith and a contagious enthusiasm for life. Sometimes you need to savor the moments when you appreciate your life despite all its imperfections.