Remembering Daddy

Jasper Jackson "Jack" Spurlock
12 March 1912 - 15 February 1978

When Daddy’s birthday came back in March, I couldn’t find the words to write about him. I’m not sure that I can do much better now that it’s Father’s Day, but I’m going to try. I didn’t have the chance, as an adult, to really get to know him—he died when I was just 24—so most of my memories are those of a child.

His daily routine included getting up at the crack of dawn, reading the Times, doing the crossword puzzle, going to work, maybe listening to a baseball game on the radio, and going to bed before dark!

He was a sheet metal worker in the heating and air conditioning industry. He built a sheet metal swimming pool for us when we lived in Alaska! It was probably more a wading pool!

I think he really enjoyed listening to music. Of course, the radio station he listened to played “oldies”—music from the 30s and 40s! He encouraged us to learn to play musical instruments. I took lessons to play the accordian and the clarinet. The only school event I remember him attending was a band concert when I was in 9th grade.

Daddy never told us directly when he was proud of something we had done. But he did tell Mama, and she would pass the word along. She told me once he was proud that I could sew my own clothes.

Daddy left the child-rearing and discipline to Mama. But that didn’t stop me from fearing what would happen if he discovered my transgressions! He spanked me once, but I don’t remember it; I was 4 and trying to rid myself of a pesky little sister by toppling the television over on her.

When I was a teenager, he gave me two gifts that I still have and cherish: a pair of dressmaking shears (in a small size that are comfortable for me to use) and a metronome (so I can keep the proper tempo).

My most cherished memory is of him being at the hospital the night my son was born and waiting to see me as I was taken from the delivery room. He patted me on the cheek and told me something to the effect that I had “done good.” I wish he had lived longer so my son and my grandchildren could have known him.

Daddy, I love and miss you!

© 2011 Denise Spurlock