My First Hero

Posted On June 19, 2020

Father’s Day is bittersweet for those who have lost their fathers. Even those who did not have an ideal relationship, probably mourn the loss of the chance to make the relationship better. I’m a fortunate one–I had a great relationship with my father. So much so, that I considered him a true hero.

I was born when my father was 42. He already had two teenage daughters, a wife he adored and the farm he always wanted. Life was good. I don’t know if he ever desired to have a son, but assume he did. I’m guessing he wanted someone to carry on his name and work beside him on his beloved farm. Sadly, five years before I was born, he had that chance. A son was born to him but he died at birth.

So, I don’t know if my parents had me as their last attempt to have a son or if I was an accidental pregnancy. I’m thinking one or the other. However, they never once gave me an inkling that I wasn’t just who they wanted to complete their family.

Instead of having a son to carry on his last name, I was named after my father. He went by his second name, but his first name was mine–Leslie. I have always liked my name. I think it has a pleasant sound, I have known very few others, making it more unique, and I share it with my dad, my hero.

As the youngest child by fifteen years, I realize I was terribly spoiled by my parents, my sisters and my grandma who lived with us when I was a child. But that doesn’t mean Daddy didn’t have rules for me! I was made to work in the garden at a young age and started push mowing the lawn at about ten years of age. It would take me two full days to mow the yard, around the garden and around dozens and dozens of little pine and cedar trees that I helped plant to the west and north of the house as a windbreak. I cared for the farm dogs and cats and helped tend to the cattle, including rounding them up, forking silage and pulling calves. Most of the time, these chores were performed alongside my father. I was his “boy”.

Daddy was a poor farmer. He always had another job and the farming was done in his “spare” time. He was willing to do this so he could hold on to the farm but he worked when already beat using old equipment. I remember his small red and gray Ford tractor. I shudder to think now that one of my best memories was when he would let me lay on top of the tractor in front of the steering wheel as he plowed a field or mowed for hay. I’d just lay there daydreaming and enjoying the smell of freshly turned dirt or newly mown grass. Needless to say, I always was very tan and survived this dangerous activity!!!

I can’t believe I’m saying it now, but another fond memory was working the cattle with him. I’ve never seen him madder than when working with cattle (if you’ve ever worked cows, you can totally understand this). When rounding them up, we only used walking sticks. We would walk all over the pastures getting them to go toward the barn. The closer we’d get, the more they would try to turn around. I don’t know how many times Daddy yelled at me to “Don’t move, they’ll turn back around if you don’t move out of the way!” With a wild-eyed, thousand pound cow running straight at me, I was just as likely to jump out of the way as to stand my ground. I never shared his confidence nor his love for cattle! Daddy would yell, shake his head and then we’d start the process all over again. I never thought then that these times would turn out to be some of my favorite memories!! I can see so clearly his disgusted look and shake of the head as he’d tell me we had to start all over. I can giggle about it now and see that he is the one who taught me true patience and how you can get terribly mad without ever uttering a curse word. In fact, no words were needed to express that anger; just a look and shake of the head.

My other favorite memory was watching TV with Daddy. When I was little, I always sat on his lap Sunday nights watching Disney’s Wonderful World of Color followed by The Ed Sullivan Show. Grandma would be sitting there watching with us as Mother cleaned up the supper dishes happily humming. Other nights we’d watch Perry Mason, Have Gun Will Travel, Peter Gun, Dragnet and any other detective or law and order type show. To this day, those are my favorite type shows.

It’s surprising to me to look back upon my teenage years and have hardly any memories of time spent with Daddy. By then he had a full-time job involving more than 40 hours a week, was crop farming and had a good number of cattle. I don’t remember him ever attending any school or 4-H activities. But his lack of involvement then didn’t matter because he had nurtured and loved me completely as a child. By my teen years I noticed that he also invested much time and thought to bettering our community through our church and his job as the Member Services Director of our local electric cooperative and then as the founder and Director of our county’s water district.

Although we had good times as a family, I never felt as close to my dad as I had as a child until he retired. By then I was teaching high school, had a family of my own and was very busy. But, whenever I took time to sit down and visit with Daddy I always left more self confident, happy and unconditionally loved. We’d discuss school issues, church issues and political issues. We agreed on most things but when we didn’t, he respected my opinion and gave it thought. These conversations inspired me to take action to make my community better through my church and my job just as he had done. When we talked about my family, he offered advice but not criticism.

Many more of my stories will include my father. The man who nurtured and loved me in my childhood, loved me but gave me the freedom to find my own way as a teen and young adult, and then loved me and became a good friend in my later adult years.

What memories do you have of your father throughout the years? If some are not pleasant, try to turn those memories into good ones just as I have when I look back upon “working the cattle.” Realize how he influenced you. If he’s gone from this life, find ways to bring him back in your mind. When I’m missing Daddy, I’ll watch an episode of Law & Order and imagine guessing with him what the outcome will be and what it should be.

My dad, Leslie Bruce, taught me so many Lessons of Life.