As we celebrate Dad’s this weekend I took a few moments
to think about my own Dad’s sense of style.
My Father was born in the early thirties the youngest son of a rural
farmer. I do not have much to draw on
his early childhood the few photos I have seen give me the impression
that staples were slim and family was everything. Photos alongside his eight siblings all stair stepped in size. Boys
in denim overalls and work shoes, which no doubt were passed down as one boy
outgrew what became their standard uniforms.
Girls in light cotton dresses my Grandmother had unmistakably sewn with
her signature adornments of embroidery.
The few glimpses into my Father’s childhood through photos
even become less available into his teenage years. Defiant slicked back hair, t shirts, jeans
and fast cars is the most suitable hypothesis.
Like many boys of my Father’s era he found his way into the service when
he finally reached the age of enlistment.
With a sharp uniform and a little money in his pocket for leave my Dad’s
sense of style became clear. Young and
handsome, it would be easy to see how my Mother was swept away by his dashing
movie star persona, but in truth it was his more sensitive side and beautiful
hand written letters we would learn that really stole her heart. 
As the youngest of my three siblings my Father had long
turned in his Naval Uniform for Dickes work wear and khaki’s, madras and suede
Hush Puppy shoes for the weekend. A
hard worker he liked to buy the best he could afford and take care of those
items. From clothing, to automobiles,
devoted consumable brands to home furnishings once he found a style he liked he
would seldom falter. As a child I was the iconic “Daddy’s Girl”. My childhood memories of my Dad were looking up into his deep brown eyes that were outlined by laugh lines. Hearing his deep and infectious laugh and holding his callused hand that I knew was there to provide and protect me at all times. When he came in after a long day of working on a job site or after fighting a fire as a Volunteer he would immediately wash up with Lava Soap in our tiny utility bathroom. Later, he would retreat to the tub and return smelling of Right Guard Deodorant, Safeguard Soap and Groom n Clean hair balm.
Working in the heat and elements a majority of his life
respite time for him was for the most part spent indoors. Of course he had the iconic John Deere riding
mower and Coleman Grill and he didn’t hesitate to take me fishing or Umpire my
little league game but I know his real enjoyment after a hard day was raising
his
feet in his Lazy Boy recliner tuning into the evening news
on his Zenith TV and sipping on Lipton Sweet Tea.
feet in his Lazy Boy recliner tuning into the evening news
on his Zenith TV and sipping on Lipton Sweet Tea.
As my Mother and Father were respectfully equal managers in
our home they would make joint decisions on the furnishings and coverings of
the household. Their purchases were of
traditional style built to hold up in a family environment. If anything our parents maintained and taught
their children to take care of items to a fault that my Mother usually grew
tired of her surroundings long before they were fully worn out. Some of the simple rules that helped with
that maintenance were no toys in our bedrooms.
Food was consumed only in the kitchen (or dining room if we had
company). Drinks were always on coasters
and absolutely no shoes in the house. I
even recall one of my favorite Birthday Parties were held in our single car
garage. As a child I thought this was
just for a cool factor but as an adult I understand it was really more of a
save the carpet move on my parents part. As I’ve grown older or wiser I have come to appreciate my
Dad’s rule to buy the best you can afford and maintain it but it’s not without
my own life lessons and poor purchases, 
This Father’s Day marks the 19th Anniversary of my Father’s death. I feel he was taken way too soon, but then again is there ever a time where we are ready to say goodbye? Cancer may have taken his signature slicked back pompadour but it couldn’t take away his iconic style. I have a few reminders of my childhood home scattered through my own home, even today my parents choices of quality purchases and exemplary care make them available for our everyday use. And one of my prized possessions is a quilt my Mother commissioned after my Dad’s death. It happily keeps the memories of my Dad’s many plaid shirts at my fingertips. So, as a reminder I may stop and reminisce when, on a rare occasion, a man pulls a handkerchief from his pocket or a Dean Martin song hits my iTunes. Madmen episodes bring back memories of pouring bourbon and coke in a gold rimmed glass or the excitement of a new fancy automobile being brought home for Mom.
Today, we have so many more choices in the way of
fashion and home décor it can sometimes be hard to define our own style. I personally still stand behind the old adage that if
you have had good luck with a brand then they deserve your patronage. Do we ever really stop and think of the people behind
the shops and the brands? As part of a
small business I may be more sensitive to that fact then most. There are
plenty of stores in our community that I have frequented since I was a
child, where now second and third generation
store owners are investing in our community and helping us define our own sense
of style and brand loyalty. Childhood memories of these establishments were that my parents knew the names of the store owners and clerks and they in return knew theirs. I'm happy to say we live in a town where sometimes that can still happen, but our world is much bigger now and we read in the news almost nightly of chain stores closing and the retail shopping experience becoming extinct. In reflecting on my own Father's style I can only ponder at the hardworking fathers who built these stores from the ground up and wonder what defined their style and what was the story behind their brand? If you are a Father then embrace your own style, own it, because you never know what impression you are making on your children. Happy Father's Day!
