ElleSpeak

My earliest memory is one of sweet discovery associated with my Dad. My family lived in a very small duplex on Houston Street near Brookside Park in Indianapolis. I don’t remember much about the inside or the outside of the house, but I’ve seen photos of our front yard and the two sets of long, steep, narrow steps that led to our small front door. In the black and white photos my older brother and I are quite young and we are each perched on one of those steps, my brother is on one higher and I’m on one a bit lower, and our chubby toddler bodies are both entirely nude, except for the cowboy hats sitting on top of our little towheaded noggins.

We seem to be unaware of the camera that was probably wielded by our father, who would for most of our childhood, chronicle our lives through the lens of his camera. In these early days he was absent a lot because he worked nights, arriving home in the early morning hours, sleeping for most of the day before eating dinner and heading out to work again.

I believe that I was crazy about my father from the first instant my baby brown eyes rested on his handsome face, and peered into his mischievous hazel green eyes. He captivated me effortlessly and I unabashedly lavished messy toddler affection on him whenever he was within my reach.

Just look at any photo of me with my father at my side, and you’ll see me clinging to him as though I’m afraid he might disappear at any second. The look of adoration on my face is unmistakable, and undeniable, as easy to see as the heart I wore on my sleeve with his name written all over it. Much to my mother’s disappointment, I was definitely a Daddy’s girl!

When we lived on Houston Street my parents couldn’t afford a stove and they used orange crates for tables and chairs. There was a two burner hot plate that must have been set on one of these crates because I remember being able to reach it quite easily. It sat in the kitchen, near the back door where my father usually came and went, and where he would empty his pockets of keys, loose change, and as often as not, an open pack of Wrigley’s Spearmint or Juicy Fruit gum.

My very first memory is of finding an open pack of gum next to the hot plate and helping myself to a stick of gum, believing my Daddy had left the gum solely for my pleasure. At the time I was way too young to really know how to chew gum, but I remember loving the sugary, sticky mess in my almost toothless mouth, and associating that sweet pleasure with my father.

My life at this very early age, and for many years to come, was centered round his comings and goings. Time was measured only by the moments spent in his presence, the moments in between just didn’t count. I was like a flower waiting to bloom at the sight of his face, and wilting at the smallest sign of his displeasure.

Always craving his attention I tried to behave in a manner that would please him, but inevitably, as I grew from a little girl into a woman I would earn his displeasure many times over; yet that never stopped me from loving that handsome face and those mischievous hazel eyes, and I always felt his love even though he couldn’t always speak it.

I can trace the beginnings of many of my likes and dislikes in life directly back to what my Dad liked or didn’t like. If he enjoyed chewing Wrigley’s gum…so did I! Butter pecan ice cream? Yum! Camping in the woods in a tent? When do we leave and how long can we stay? All through my life I brought to my heart just about everything he ever loved and tried to love it too, even the smokin’ hot horse radishes he grew at the far edge of our backyard.

He grew the horse radishes in the center of an old tire, and when they were ready we pulled them out of the ground together, washed them at the kitchen sink, and then put them through a food grinder that was fastened to the edge of our kitchen table. As we took turns cranking the handle the aroma that rose from the ground-up radishes made my eyes fill with water that spilled over and ran down my cheeks; and when he mischievously gave me a bite to taste and laughingly asked “How do you like that?”, even though my mouth and tongue were as hot as a three alarm fire I smiled and answered “I like it!”

To this day I still love horseradish and I still miss my Dad terribly even though he’s been gone 15 years. He gave me guidance when I asked for it and sometimes when I didn’t, but mostly he gave his guidance through his example of how to live a life.

He showed me how to do the hard things in life with resolve, how to enjoy the small things in life with great happiness, and how to share the good things in life with others, which only increases the pleasure.

Because he was my father, I live my life with an open mind that has led me to be interested in many things, and with an open heart that has often led me to do the right thing, and with the knowledge that sharing the many good things in life with others can only bring greater pleasure.

It isn’t surprising to me that my earliest memory is associated with him and the sweetness that life can bring, and it isn’t surprising to me that there are still many days I feel him close to me, and I’m always grateful for his presence in my life…then…and now.

Copyright 2019
Eleanor Hugar Laker