My Dad

November 13, 1921 this little boy came into the world. The story was  that he was born on the kitchen table on the homestead farm outside of Loomis, Nebraska. This was in the days when the mother stayed in bed for a week, and help came in to tend to the new mama and baby. Russell Lamont Harris….a big name for a little boy.  My dad liked to tell stories of when he was little, growing up on the farm with his brother KB. My uncle’s name was actually Kenneth Bruce, but he was always  called KB.

One story that stands out in my mind was one of my dad riding his bicycle with a rabid dog in pursuit. He rode his bike under the windmill and grabbed onto the closest bar to pull himself off and climbed to safety. His dad then came out and shot the dog.  Dad went to a little country school through 8th grade and then into Loomis for his high school years.  He took violin lesson, and was quite proficient, later on playing in the Grand Island Orchestra where he met my mom as he tuned his violin with her help at the piano.

Dad met my mom at the Grand Island Business School, but then after the Pearl Harbor Attack, he joined the Navy and then they were married on June 23, 1945 following the end of WW2. He was a Harvard graduate, graduating Magna Cum Laude and then returned to Holdrege, Nebraska where there was a teller job waiting for him.  Then over the course of 12 years, Suzy, Cindy and Phil came along, helping to make their house a home. We enjoyed a year adding a Swedish sister too. The last time we were all together and our last family picture was at Ben and Joanna’s wedding.

My dad had a long career with the First National Bank in Holdrege, Nebraska. These were the days of no credit checks, and the hometown bank was there to help its’ own. I have had many people tell me how even when they were down and out, he believed in them to start again, and they did!

Skipping ahead now to his days of being a grandpa, there are so many stories to tell, from my perspective!! We lived on a hog farm for about 14 years east of Holdrege. My dad LOVED to come out there and drive the little tractor, and I think re-live his youth of living on the farm. One day, I commented on how early in the morning, when I was up with one of my babies, I would see a skunk scurry into our Morton building. That was a mistake.  Every morning about 5:00 we would hear a car in our driveway and my dad was out there, determined to get that skunk before it attacked one of us!! One morning we were awakened by a BOOM! BOOM! Dad proudly strode back to his car, saying after work he would come out and take care of the deceased skunk. Well….that happened to be one of those 103 degrees summer days in Nebraska. The smell of a blown up skunk hung like syrup in the air, and I could hardly breathe, even in the house! I thought I would just take care of it….putting on my playtex gloves, and armed with a stick and a big trash bag, I thought I could just snag it and swing it into the trash bag. WRONG.  I held my breath about 20 ft from the mess,  the stick was useless, so I took the tip of the tail and tried to swing it into the bag. Suddenly, holding my breath, the heat, and the sight of this fly covered corpse was too much, and I threw everything down and ran back into the house crying.   Scott came home for lunch that day, smelled the skunk about 1/2 mile away from our house and when he got home managed to get it in the trash pit and burned it. My dad always chuckled when I told this story about him, proud that he got the skunk and enjoying the humor of the scene that day.

Dad loved his family, there was no doubt about that.  As the grandchildren came along, the boys got to go fishing many times. They also were horrified at the techniques Grandpa had for skinning a fish. The girls enjoyed reading books with Grandpa, and usually a story or two about Tarzan.

There is no way to compact 94 years into this blog, but my dad was on my mind today, and I wanted to share my thoughts and a few memories. The last 9 years of his life were without the love of his life, but we all tried to fill in the gap for him when we could.

Dad lived with me for 7 of the last 9 years….and as his dementia became more unmanageable for me with my health issues, he needed to have specific care for his condition. Watching him slowly disappear was a nightmare at times, yet I knew he was also heading toward the end of his earthly journey and would soon step into eternity. I miss you Dad. I miss your big, warm hands, your chuckle, seeing you sneak into the kitchen for another cookie, your love for all of us, and just your presence.  Someday soon though…..and there will be a grand reunion. I love you.