Edward Jesse

I miss him. Today is his birthday. He loved life and had 75 pretty good years before passing in 1999. I was with him when he died. My husband held his hand as he took his last breath. My sister and her husband were there as well. It's very hard to watch someone you love die. Cancer. Mom got it too. She died 4 years before he did. Some days it seems like forever since they went home, other times it's as if they were just here for a holiday meal. My Dad was fond of being together with people. He was the type that just about anyone could chat with. He was very respectful of others. Polite to women and a good husband to my Mom. He had a kind way with kids. But you could also find him after work every day at the local bar, unwinding, debating many issues with the regulars.

When I first thought I'd write about him I wasn't sure I'd have much to say. I wasn't confidant I could remember that many things. How strange to think that. The memories of him are just bursting forth as I'm typing. He was such a memorable man, loved by so many. Read along if you like and let me tell you some things about my Dad:

No matter what day it was, he rose early and had a full breakfast. Liked to cook it for himself. Eggs, meat, toast, coffee. He ate most foods. He wouldn't waste a thing. If there was mold on the cheese, he'd just cut it off. Same thing with bread. Hot dogs, he ate raw... just wrapped a piece of bread around one and made an instant snack. Being in Papua, New Guinea and other places in the 40's with the Navy I guess helps give one the ability to deal with difficult situations. He made due with what was available to him and worked hard his entire life. The most impressive thing to me was how he educated himself. He didn't graduate high school and certainly didn't have the opportunity to go to college because he had to work early on to help the family. But he knew how to read and he never stopped learning. He had a good grasp of many subjects...math, history, english... and his penmanship was flawless. His signature was beautiful and fancy. It's no wonder he took to a trade where his steady hand and good eye for color would be of value. He was a house painter. At first in business with his father, later with the Union, a position he eventually retired from. He taught this trade to my husband and he's quite the master at it as well.
My Dad loved my Ron. They became very close. He was like the son he lost many years before.

Back then, a preemie didn't stand much chance of survival. His little baby only lived a few hours after birth. He had to handle the funeral without his wife. At that time, women stayed in the hospital for much longer than they do now. My Mom wasn't able to attend the burial. My Father and my Aunt had to do it. He was strong but it must have been the hardest thing he'd ever had to go thru. That was his only son and they'de already been married for many years trying to start a family. Luckily for my sister and I, children were in their future and I was born 14 years after they married.

If I was home sick from school, he'd come in after work and sit with me, doing his best to give some comfort. He rarely seemed to be sick though. He had so many responsibilities and yet I don't remember him ever complaining. Oh, he did have a bit of a temper at times. We were certainly not abused in any way but did get an earful when he needed to vent. That's okay though, he was someone you could always count on. He might have been stressed at times working so hard but he was fair, generous, and kind. He never turned anyone away. If they needed a tool, a ride, a couple bucks, he was ready to help. His nature was very sociable. Mom was always a bit more quiet about life, had only a couple true friends. Dad got on with everyone and was thought of as a bit of a character. At the luncheon following his funeral, one of his good friends (the bartender at a local watering hole) put a bar stool in the room with a rum and coke on it so he could be with us there in spirit. I didn't ever really know him to like mixed drinks much at home though. He enjoyed a beer with or after dinner. Actually, ale was what he preferred. I remember those old green bottles of Grolsch he'd treat himself to. Or some other good lager.

Even though my parents weren't so much into the holidays for themselves, they tried to make ours nice. Especially Christmas. Dad was the decorator. He used to string up strands of the big colorful bulbs out front. He had two large plastic light up candles that were on either side of the porch steps. Inside, he put garland across the living room ceiling and hung little cork ornaments along it. Hanging from the center of the room was a small music box hot air balloon holding Santa Claus. They had a silver tree for many years and I soooo loved that tree! It had pompom ends and they put a reflector behind it so that it turned red, blue, yellow, and green.

Oh my.... now I'm recalling so many memories I could tell you about him all day!

As a Pop Pop he was the best! He loved our children and my nephew. He'd be so proud that Rich went into the Navy. He had a special place in his heart for each of them and would stop by at times if he was working nearby. Maybe just for a couple minutes, a quick cup of coffee and a slice of pie. His favorite was mincemeat. I've still got one in the freezer from the year before he died. Can't throw it out. It reminds me of him. I wake up some mornings smelling cigarette smoke and no one here smokes in the house. If I see a crossword puzzle I immediately think of him. He loved to do them and was quite good. When I used to get the weekend paper we'd talk on the phone now and then about different clues. He sat at his dining room table every morning and worked a crossword. After my Mom died, he also took to jigsaw puzzles. When we were little he played Monopoly with us. He was a whistler, a hand clapper, and a foot tapper when it came to music. He loved all the big bands. Peggy Lee was his favorite female singer. He listened to the radio all the time. He liked to play the nickel slots at the casinos. He.....

He..... He......

As much as writing about him has been fun in some ways, it's also getting a bit too emotional for me. Of course there are lots of other wonderful and quirky things I could tell you. He touched the lives of many people who knew him but for now it's come time to just say.....

Happy Birthday, Daddy.... I love you.

When my Dad died, my husband hired an artist do a drawing in pencil for me for Christmas that year. She was hesitant to take the job thinking it might be too soon but it captured his likeness so much and it's been in my living room ever since. He also had one done in pastels of my Mom the year she passed. I'll post that later on with a tribute to her as well. :)