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Carol Perkins: Father's Day

Previous Column: A Playmate for Carol

By Carol Perkins

As Father's Day approaches, we naturally think of our own. Those who have passed away are forever in our hearts. My dad died of a heart attack in 1977 at the age of sixty-two. At the time, I didn't appreciate how young he was. Only when I reached that age did I grasp how short his life was. I have so many memories, of course, but I can't help but think about what he has missed. Of his seven grandchildren, he lived to see two of them: my children, Carla and Jon. Carla has memories, but Jon was only four.

My dad would have embraced the computer age. He was a technical man and knew the workings of a TV from console to picture tubes. Back then, TVs were connectors and tubes. He was a TV repairman and sold television sets. He installed the first cable tower in Edmonton. When I made the mistake of asking him how a TV worked, he went into detail and not one word did I understand.

I often think of his music.


At night, he went to the bedroom, shut the door, and played the fiddle, the saxophone, or the trumpet. Our house was small enough that the music flowed from room to room. If he wasn't making music, he was in the basement with an easel, canvas, and oil paints. His focus was mainly on presidential portraits, and many of them hung in the offices of several lawyers in town, as well as in Nunn Drugs when Miss Winnie was alive. The painting of Lincoln came back to me when JC Coleman passed away, thanks to his family.

The basement was also a lab for his inventions. One of those had something to do with perpetual motion. Most of the space was full of gadgets and planks and pulleys. I heard him several times explaining the process to one of my uncles.

I think about what he has missed as for those happy occasions that families share. Births, weddings, Christmases, birthdays, festivals, graduations, anniversaries, and so much more. My dad was a social person and would have been in the center of these events.

For those of us whose fathers are gone, it is a melancholy day. However, I try to focus on Guy. Carla and Jon think he is the smartest person in the world. I'm not sure if he is smarter than My daddy.


You can contact Carol at carolperkins06@gmail.com.


This story was posted on 2022-06-17 07:42:35
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