James and his siblings, raised almost entirely by his mother, had grown up under very difficult circumstances. As a gifted quilter, James’s mother worked constantly to support her children…….every day was long and hard. Accepting her life with very little complaining, Verna Mae set about her ever-present job of housing, clothing, and providing sustenance for her six children. They were very poor and their father’s absence through many of the early years left the children pretty much “on their own” most of the time. That is not to say that they were not loved …..James’s mother was one of the most loving and selfless women ever to grace God’s green earth ….. there just wasn’t enough of her to go around …… and she knew it. But she always did the very best she could and I admired the great strength with which she had steadfastly accepted the parental responsibilities which were thrust entirely on her ….on her, alone.
By growing up in this type of atmosphere, James learned at an early age how to make “something out of nothing”, and “one man’s junk is another man’s treasure”. These two principles, though learned out of necessity for his very survival, became two of my husband’s greatest assets, redeeming their value over and over in our family’s existance.
James put these invaluable talents to use, as we tried desperately to provide for our family. Someone was always yelling, “Daddy, fix it!” This demand could have several possible applications, all of which James was more than able to perform. The kids could be clamoring for the rebirth of a maimed toy; for music from a soundless radio, or cartoons on a deceased television. We discarded nothing, because…“you never know when your gonna need that”……..“I’m saving that for, Fill In The Blank”…..but more often than not, nothing was thrown away because, “It wasn’t broken ’til Dad said it was”.
“There’s nothin’ to eat……Daddy, can you fix something?” Sometimes, we had “NSF problems”, or were “broker than a couple of convicts”, two of our many favorite family sayings which referred to our frequently recurring financial condition. James would saunter into an “empty” kitchen, (everyone would get really quiet) and whip up a meal fit for a Queen and her offspring in a matter of minutes! Now, that’s what I call talent!
The kids would inquire; “Mom! How do you want your tater fixed?”; or “Mom! Dad wants to know, wha da ya want with that, beans or corn?” My hubby can take a slice of bologna, a bottle of catsup, an onion and a couple of potatoes, and make a feast! Give the man “the fixin’s” for Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner and …..oh!…thank you, God!….that I could be so blessed! Mostly, he cooked …. and I cleaned.
Another cry of “Daddy, fix it”, could be a tearful distress call for an injured dog, bird, goose, rabbit, chicken, or some other poor creature in dire need of medical attention. Dad would haul out his box of “doctorin’ stuff”, clean and dress a wound, splint a broken appendage, or if necessary, build a box for an impromptu funeral. He was also the “sticker in the foot” and “ingrown toenail” guy. He would smile mischievously, as he poured alcohol or iodine on an open wound with the injured party would screaming “Blow it! Blow it! Blowww it!” He had a certain Machiavellian streak that I found very amusing…..and attractive.
James could keep an automobile running, literally…. forever. From master cylinders to brake shoes, transmissions and clutches, to rebuilding or replacing the whole engine, Daddy could do it ALL. Discarded lawnmowers, tillers, small motors, often became food on our table, or shoes on the kids feet. Because James endured great hardship as a child, our family possessed many things that under ordinary circumstances we would not have been able to afford. Due to the mixed blessings of his childhood, the character to endure in spite of the odds was burned into his soul, heart and hands. James always retained his desire to fix broken things.
But sadly for all, there were some things even Daddy couldn’t fix.
