Charles Wendell Smith
Born: May 10, 1939 Died August 9, 2010
It is impossible to sum up more than 70 years of a mans life in just a few minutes. But I will tell you about a few moments in his life that made him my hero and mentor. Dad, like so many others wore many hats in his life (The best one was his old CTA lined hat.) He was known by many names.
He was known as Charles to some. That more formal name was used at times by people who were more than a little exasperated with him. But that is to be expected. Just like good food, you dont want to go thru life with everything being bland and tasteless. He certainly did his best to get things spiced up and interesting for everyone. I wont even get into Sugar Babies. A name that made him giggle and Mom blush every time the girls asked for an explanation. They can keep their secret.
He was known as Daddy to 5 very special girls. He loves them so much. So much that he worked long hours, sometimes 3 jobs at the same time. But he always thought of them. Enough to bring a doz donuts home with him Sunday mornings after spending a long night on the road. Most of the time they were lemon filled donuts. I think he learned a lesson not to change the kind of donuts when he and the family got up one morning and found that someone had stuck her finger into everyone of the donuts searching for the filling that was not there. (Dont worry, I wont name names Clara. I am sure everyone has done something like that in their life. It is only the special few who are immortalized.) He had so much love that there was always another young lady who had the title of Daughter # 6 hanging around the house and being treated like one of the family.
To a very special few, he is known as Pa Paw. He would just lite up when he talked about all of you. His eyes would gleam and dance. He had a big smile. He was so proud of each and everyone of you. He would say, Did you hear what So and so did? And he would regale us the latest news. He would go from child to child and talk for hours about what he and you did together or what you were doing in school. The smile would not fade and the eyes crinkled the whole time. He loved telling the stories so much he would tell us about the times when he would tell his friends and co workers about Yaall.
And speaking of friends and co workers, most simply knew his as Smitty. Since he was from a small farm in TN, he liked the simplicity of the name. Even though he was anything but a simple man.
Now briefly to my 3 stories in the time I have left. As I said he was my mentor. My hero. I learned more from him than I could ever imagined I could.
The first one takes place on the day I proposed to Rhonda. I wanted to get his permission first. Even after being a part of the family for 5 yrs, I was nervous. More than I imagined that I would be. After stammering around for a while trying to get the words out, he told me yes. I told him that I had more to say. I told him that I knew his family did not wear wedding rings but it was a tradition in my family that I wanted to continue. I told him that I did not want to create a problem in the family (especially with Mom) and I was turning to him for assistance on how to handle this situation. Keep in mind we were down in TN at Moms parents 50th wedding anniversary. All her family was there and Grandpa was the Churchs State Overseer. This could have been a real messy situation.
This is what he told me. Go propose to my little girl. I will take care of Willean. The weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders. While I didnt recognize it at the time, this was my first inkling that he was my hero.
The 2nd story took place after Amanda was born. She was about 2 and the whole family went out to breakfast before we headed back home. Like a typical 2 yr old Amanda was acting up a bit. She was the center of attention for her Gparents along w/ Aunties and she loved it. She was too busy looking around the restaurant and playing with everyone to eat. She liked standing up in her highchair so that everyone could get a better look at her. All though breakfast Rhonda would tell her to sit down and to eat. Amanda would not listen. It finally got to the point that Rhonda gave her THE final warning. If you stand up again, I will swat you on the bottom. As happens with most children, she ignored her mother and stood back up. Rhonda followed up on her promise and gave Amanda a gentle swat that was probably more diaper than bottom and helped Amanda sit back down.
Amadas bottom lip began to quiver. Her eyes welled up with huge tears. She looked over at her beloved grandfather who was sitting besides her. She held out her little arms and implored him to rescue her. She said, Oh Papaw.
I need to stop there and tell you what I was thinking at this time. I am a few seats down the table the other direction. Amanda at this time is the only grandchild and as I mentioned, she had been doted on a lot more than she needed to be by everyone. Before Dad could even speak I was planning on having a little talk with him about boundary issues when it comes to raising our children. The only question I had was would I take him outside while everyone else was still eating and if so what would be my excuse for getting us away from the table. I had leaned forward over my plate and pretended that I was going to get another bite of food. What I was really doing was looking out of the corner of my eye in order to get a better view of what was going to be his response. He got the saddest look on his face and in his best Southern style he said, Honey, it just breaks my heart to see you sad like this. But when your Momma tells you to do something, you have to mind what she says. I eased back into my chair and just kept on eating. I knew I would never have an issue with him when it came to us raising the kids.
I know my time is short but I have one more story. It took place on May 10, 1980. That was the day I graduated from college. Going to my college graduation was not a high priority for me. I wouldnt have gone if I was not persuaded to do so by several people. I certainly would not have remembered the date if it had not been Dads 41st birthday.
On the 10th and at some time prior to the ceremony Rhonda had reminded me, yet again, that it was also her Dads birthday. When I had a chance, I went up to him and thanked him for coming and bringing the family. I told him that I appreciated the effort on his part. That I knew that he could have said that he wanted to stay home and have the focus of the day on himself instead of it being on me. He told me that he was glad to share the day with me. That the ceremony was important and he would not dream of missing it.
As the day wore on I thought a little bit about his birthday and Dad turning 41, I thought, I realize that 41 is not OLD, (At that time I was 21.) but is sure getting up there.
Well Dad wins in the end. He is a young man once again. He has no more pain. No more sorrow. No more misery. And I want to follow his lead one more time and meet him in Glory!
I can not think of a better way to conclude this evening than to quote the youngest and namesake grandson, Chuckie, when he said, Goodbye old Friend. Goodbye old Pal.