Pretty Interesting Stuff Peering at the world through James colored glasses…

This is an excerpt from an autobiography I’ve been working on for the past few years…

My dad always voted as a Democrat; a strong union supporter, put-your-forty-hours-in kind of a man. On the same token, he hated tax increases, social programs, and was vehemently against accepting charity or any type of social welfare. He was a proud man. He believed in a strong national defense, but felt strongly about keeping our nose out of foreign affairs. He was not, by today’s vernacular, a left-wing-liberal. By today’s standards, Dad would be a very moderate Democrat, or perhaps even lean a little to the right.

I didn’t care much about politics until much later in life. But dad’s viewpoints always made me curious. Had he had an education beyond the third grade, he’d have made a good attorney. He was a smart man and was able to think things through to a logical conclusion. He was a definite thinker. I can still see him in his signature “Milstid Squat”, cigarette in hand… thinking. He would take a break from whatever he was doing around the house, squat much like one sees the Asians do, and just contemplate things. He even sat on the toilet like that.

Dad was from the old school when it came to raising a family. That was the norm in those days. He cared about his family and worked hard to support us. He expected us kids to be respectful and polite, think of others, and know our place in the world. Our place was to be quiet around the adults, and do what mom told us to do. He seldom had to use corporal punishment… his words and his glare usually put the fear in us! When he did spank us, we knew we were in big trouble. He wasn’t a mean dad; he was firm and demanded respect.

His advice was simple. Keep your shoes shined and wear a belt. Live and let live. Explore all sides of a topic; “Let’s look at ‘er this-a-way…”.

He loved to debate. And he was good at it. He had his firm beliefs and came to them through much thinking and pondering. And I do mean MUCH thinking!

His last words to me came after I met him at the doctor. As we said our goodbyes, he told me, “James, take good care of ma.” A week later, he was gone.