The man you knew as Mr. Foraker when you attended Wellston High School was known to me as Daddy. As a wee child, I sometimes called him Daddy Jack. He was also known by Charles, Charlie, Jack, Jack Rabbit and Charlie Jack. He was a very good man, a respected and loved man who was an educator, and an administrator, an inventor, a self-taught musician, a furniture builder, a bowler, a square dancer and a fisherman. He was a friend to many and with undying energy; he lived his life, loved his family and respected the earth.I have two very potent memories of Daddy’s time at Wellston. When Mother worked on Saturdays, Daddy would take me with him to the high school. While he did his paperwork, I sometimes would play in the parking lot. Someone had told me that if I sprinkled salt on a bird’s tail, he would be unable to fly and I could play with him. So, I chased and chased and chased, but never caught one. Then, when tired, I would go to his woodworking shop. I can still smell the freshly cut wood and sawdust. I remember the big brooms and tall workbenches. Daddy would lovingly rub the wood and explain the grains. He let me play with the wood pieces in the scrap bin. He taught me to love wood…the smell, the feel, the beauty. I never smell freshly cut wood without aching for Daddy.
There are a few things you may not know about Daddy. He grew up with his older brother on a farm without electricity or running water (yes, they had a two holer). His daddy worked the farm in the beginning with a team of horses. The family survived the Great Depression with food from the farm and the big truck patch beside the house. His mother never turned away anyone who was hungry and Hobos marked the farm as a safe place to get a good hot meal.
Daddy and his older brother, Tom, won singing contests and played in bands as they grew up. Daddy taught himself to play the violin, guitar and later the piano. His two granddaughters, Keri and Kristin, danced to his music every Sunday after supper at our house. Hum a song and he could play it.
He made furniture for his mother which we still use and for our family as well. He made me a child’s table and chairs and a doll’s high chair and cradle that his great-grandchildren have also played with.
Daddy boxed as a featherweight when he was younger.
Daddy and Mother had many trophies from the two bowling leagues they joined. They loved to square dance and traveled to kick up their heels often. Fishing and camping were passions and Daddy could fillet crappie with the best of them. Wonderful memories. Once his youngest granddaughter, Kristin caught a turtle through the eye. Daddy operated successfully and “One Eyed Willie” was returned to the water. Daddy could have been a surgeon, huh? He could do anything.
Daddy took a course to repair televisions. He was so good that all his friends constantly brought over sick sets, which he would return in working order at no charge. He just loved helping others. Unfortunately, once while fixing a TV set, a screwdriver end broke off and hit him in the eye…his eye collapsed and after many hours of surgery, the eye was saved. He could only see light and dark from it, but it didn’t stop him from working and helping others. He eventually lost his eye to glaucoma…but never his energy.
Daddy could fix anything. And he did…over and over and over! When something completely wore out with no redemption, he would cannibalize it and store the parts in boxes and cans for another time. He was the original packrat. The basement of their house was his haven. He would work for hours and even often forget to eat. If nothing needed repair, he would invent something. He even worked on a perpetual motion machine, knowing it was impossible but it was the ultimate challenge.
Cancer finally took Daddy--but believe me, not without a fight. Just before he died, his grandchildren gathered at his bedside and he told them not to be sad. He said he was going to meet his best friend in Heaven…. Lance Williams. I know he was a loved teacher of yours as well.
