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PUTNAM NEWS
Jill Oxley: Community news
HONORING DAD: On this day my dad would be 97 years old. I dedicate this writing to him.
My dad didn't finish school; in fact, he only made it through third grade. It wasn't because he was mentally challenged; rather, his family was economically challenged. My dad and his siblings did graduate with honors from the school of hard knocks. Dad was a genius in his own right.
Growing up, it didn't seem a big deal that Dad read every night -- that's just what he did. He loved, no cherished, our World Book encyclopedias. There were rules for using the encyclopedias. First, you had to wash your hands. Then, you had to use the book in an appropriate place, preferably a desk or table, and there could be no glass of milk or iced tea on the table (notice I didn't mention soft drinks; those weren't allowed in our house, so didn't need to be included in the rule...). Never, no not ever where we to lay our notebook paper on top of the pages of an encyclopedia to write, and a dog-eared page could get you half killed!
Books were revered in the Forth household, and that doesn't even touch upon Mom's Bible.
One of my saddest moments in the already traumatic ordeal of saying goodbye to my childhood home decades after saying goodbye to my father, was bidding farewell to the then-ancient encyclopedias. By golly, Dad would have been proud, the 50-year-old books still looked good.
I actually felt a nauseas twinge when I said bye to the books. I had processed thoughts for and against keeping the antiquated "friends" and finally concluded they were obsolete, nearly all the information has changed and a laptop with the Internet sure takes less space than a set of half-century-old encyclopedias, and I admit I felt a little silly over the sentiment...I had not yet identified what the emotion with those books truly was.
I don't regret my decision to let the books go -- they just couldn't look the same in my house, because I'm not the housekeeper my mom was...enough said there. But I have identified why I felt so strongly about those books.
It was seeing Dad reading for enjoyment. It was listening to him share bizarre facts from around the world while we were in our living room in Hurricane, W.Va. It was Dad's goofy rules that I had rolled my eyes over a million and a half times, but in spite of myself learned to respect books. It was that Dad was proud of me when I read, too. To this day, I giggle a little and say, "Sorry Dad," when I make a notation in a book or dog-ear a page because my bookmark is lost in the couch or has gotten wet with Coca-cola overflow...
Although I have pretty well abandoned Dad's rules for reading (unless I am enjoying a borrowed book...I'm not completely uncouth), I still hold that love for books, and I have been incredibly blessed with a niche for giving a helping hand, another of Dad's strengths.
You see, one out of four Americans is functionally illiterate. That's sad stuff right there. The functionally illiterate aren't just missing reading bizarre facts from around the world, they are missing reading instructions for medications, notices that utility bills are increasing, communications from their child's school -- the list is longer than I can fathom.
After my daughter became a teacher, she sent me thank-you card stating that she had not realized how important being read to as a child was until she became a teacher. "I can tell which students are read to at home, they are stronger readers," she included in the note. Receiving kudos from my kid made happy tears rolls down my face and I gave Dad a posthumous thumbs up recognizing he had given me a great gift, and I hadn't realized it until I gave it to my own kid.
In loving memory of Claude Forth, July 18, 1911-December 29, 1970.
YOU CAN HELP: For information on volunteering to help curb illiteracy, contact Darnitta Elswick, associate director of LifeBridge AmeriCorps at 304-340-3593.
A TICKET FOR WHAT? Earlier this week I had an appointment with a friend in Dunbar. I was running a little behind, and knew I would see her look at an imaginary watch when I arrived -- an annoying silent reprimand. So I decided I'd better hurry a little. I looked at my speedometer, and it registered 78 mph -- if all went well I wouldn't be horribly late. I had just sped across the hideous bridge across the Kanawha River and was passing the entry ramp for I-64 at Nitro; I saw that a car was entering...oh blast, not just a car -- a cruiser with a big ol' ugly Trooper driving.
"Yikes, why can I never get by with this," I was wondering as I eased up on the accelerator and watched my rearview mirror.
I glanced at my speedometer again; 70 mph and the Trooper oblivious to my existence. Ah cool, all I had to worry about was being a few minutes late. Life was good; but then it happened. I saw it coming but didn't have time to prevent it -- BANG! A huge turkey flew into my windshield, shattering the glass, blood and feathers everywhere, and before I hardly knew what was happening, the wind had forced the carcass over the top of my car and I looked into the rearview mirror to witness it being hurled directly onto the hood of the cruiser.
"Uh-oh," I thought, and the blue lights came on.
I had barely put my car in park when the Trooper raced up to my window with ticket book in hand. "I suppose you know what this ticket is for, young lady," (I did kind of dig that young lady part). Before I could respond, he thrust the ticket through my window and exclaimed, "This is for flippin' me a bird!"
Tee hee hee, got you. Like I said, this column is dedicated to my dad, who was well known for telling jokes.
QUOTE OF THE WEEK: "Wit lives in the present, but genius survives the future." -- Marguerite, Countess of Blessington.
Let Jill Oxley, Putnam County's resident community newshound, know about your events by leaving a message at 304-757-9579 a week in advance.
