I think of my Daddy when I am in my garden as well. One of my earlier memories was him taking me to a little glass greenhouse to pick up tomato starts for his garden. They were sold bare-root and wrapped in pages of wet newspaper and the elderly lady who operated it heated the structure with a wood stove.

Daddy knew how to do just about everything and if you were the least bit interested he always had the time and patience to share with you how to do something too. Ditto my Mama, Posieh. I can almost feel her watching me when I am canning. People of their age were pretty self-sufficient, weren't they? I guess being the product of a depression and world war helped make them that way.

Posieh, your father and mine were both born the same year. I learned so many things from both him and my mother.

Dad fostered the love of livestock in me. Due to an injury to one of his hands, at the age of 4 I learned to milk the great milk cow we had. Then I learned how to build fences, dehorn/castrate/brand cattle. He taught me how to work patiently with the cattle we would buy and gentle them down where we could work around the herd without too much worry of them getting rough. He even could train the WILD barn cats to line up in the lot when I was milking so we could give them milk in the old one pound coffee cans he would save - LOL.

Mother taught me, not that I was real willing to stay inside and learn, how to cook, iron and do the necessary housekeeping chores. I wish I had listened to her more about the cooking and had written down many of her recipes as her "just a pinch of this" is never the same as mine. She taught me how to make wonderful buttermilk, cottage cheese, churn butter and so many more things.

I also wonder if we remember to tell them "thank you" as much as we should. If I could, I would hug them both right now and tell them that over and over.

Mary

I didn't learn gardening skills from my Father, but remember him as being able to do anything--or at least, I thought he could. I loved to sneak up on him and give him a big hug--something I'd like to do now, too. He died way too early, he was 55, but that's already 53 years ago. From my Mother, I learned compassion and a willingness to help. She lived long enough--and I was old enough--that I'm pretty sure she knew I appreciated her. Still, one can never hear that, too often, IMO.

Thanks, Posieh; I like this thread.

I doubt that any of us really ever said in so many words how we appreciated what our folks passed on to us. Since I never knew my mother, she died when I was 2 months old, I lived with my maternal grandparents. Grandma died when I was 11 and I know I never told her how much she meant to an 11 year old boy. Granddad lived by himself until he died at the age of 90.

In one of his final years we were at his house just to visit with him and then I said I don't think I ever thanked you for everything you helped me with and for raising me but now I am. Second time I ever saw him cry, first was when grandma died.

Guess it works both ways, when I lived with my father and stepmother after grandma died I don't remember any praise for anything I helped with but in high school I was very tall and a rather good basketball player.. Father never missed any home games and even after I had a good game being high point I usually heard something like "why don't you use the backboard more than those grandstand shots"?

But once when I was with him in the hardware store and supposedly out of hearing I heard him brag a little to the guy behind the counter about me being a damn good basketball player. He never told me that to my face but I've always cherished that scrap of conversation I overheard.

Do we really ever tell our children and grands how much we are pleased with them and what they accomplish?