Dad & I

             -1-

My Dad and I were very close

It was not simply happenstance

My sisters liked to do girl things

Like play piano, or to sing.

My brother still was much too young

And so it always fell to me

To help Dad out in work or play

But work or play ‘twas harmony.

I can’t remember when my Dad

And I became acquainted for

I was too young to think of much

I only knew he was just there.

I first remember as a boy

That Dad did take us all for walks

Out to Chaffee’s Woods we’d go

Mostly on Sunday afternoons.

And later on as I did grow

I remember how my Dad would

Make us bows of lemon wood, with

A round target at which to shoot.

And that was my introduction

To target shooting with a bow

Then it was that Dad taught me how

To make blunt arrows for us all.

            -2-

Then out in Chaffee’s fields we’d shoot

At five pound sugar bags chock full

Of grass, or leaves, and set way out

To shoot at varied distances.

We’d plan on spending afternoons

Just shooting ‘til we all did tire

Or had sore fingers or sore arms

Where armguards did not fit too well.

And as I grew I worked with Dad

In planting a big garden that

Judge Bliss, who lived just up the road,

Had let us use, for no longer

Did he care to plant this old field.

This was a larger piece of land

Than the one in our backyard

And took a lot of work to plant.

But Dad went at it with a will

And I helped out as best I could

He had it plowed and harrowed too

Until the loam was broken up.

Then we hoed up all the rows

And planted seeds and marked them good

Then watered all right from the well.

Thus was our garden set to go.

            -3-

We waited for the plants to sprout

Potatoes, beans, and celery

Along with corn and beets as well

Carrots, turnips, summer squash with

Winter squash, and big pumpkins

All but tomatoes did we plant

And these we staked in our backyard

Then wait we did for them to grow.

In two weeks time the plants did sprout

And then our work did really start

For weeds will grow as fast as plants

And must be taken out by hand.

So Dad and I went at it hard

And evenings after we did eat

We’d work right up ‘til it was dark

Just pulling weeds and thinning plants.

It was a hardship for just two

For my siblings could not help out

Two were girls, my brother too young

And so it fell to Dad and I

To bring this garden through the heat

Of summer and on into fall

But then when all we grew was in

A cornucopia we had.

            -4-

‘Twas then my mother’s work began

Putting all these vegetables up

In jars until the racks were full

Potatoes, turnips, carrots, all

Were put in sand so they would keep

Throughout the winter into spring

But Dad and I could not relax

For we had other things to do.

Dad started on his Osage bow

He shaped it first then scraped it down

With broken glass, until he had

The strength he wanted, eighty pounds.

‘Twas then he added cow horn nocks

The string was made from three strands each

Of Irish linen twisted tight

Then looped and served around each end.

The string was then put on the bow

The bow was strung to test the curve

And check the poundage when full drawn.

He had it then, his hunting bow.

And while he worked upon his bow,

I made blunt arrows for the spring

When we would all go out and shoot

At sugar bags, set out in spots.

            -5-

My Dad was always making things

A creamer and a sugar set

Each from a copper one-cent piece

And on the bottom of each one

The one-cent stamping was intact

He made an Indian headed brooch

Having a golden band around

Made from deer horn just for my Mom.

He could make anything desired

For his family or himself

I still remember inlaid wood

Worked on long, cold winter nights

Of a picture drawn on a board

Of an Indian in his canoe

Out on a lake at sunset time

With darkened pines as a backdrop.

Dad was inlaying every piece

Of different types of colored wood

And piece by piece that picture grew

Each piece cut with his jeweler’s saw

Then glued in place where it belonged.

He worked on this each winter eve

And when spring came the work was done

Who has it now, I do not know.

            -6-

Now chestnuts were a topic that

My Dad would often speak about

How he gathered them up in fall

Just after the first frost had hit.

He always had a basket full

From trees that grew so straight and tall

In all the forests far and wide

The tree was common as the oaks.

There were all types of animals

That fed on chestnuts when they fell

From squirrels, deer, and turkeys too.

Dad’s mother also used the nuts

To make a stuffing for her birds

And sometimes made a chestnut soup

Or roasted them  before a fire

Others used them to fatten pigs.

But then a blight hit all the trees

And killed them all within five years

No more did chestnuts then abound.

The turkeys soon did disappear

The deer declined, while squirrels turned

To acorns as their staple food.

And lumbermen across the east

Did cut the dead and dying trees.

            -7-

But I remember as a boy

My Dad bringing chestnuts home that

He had found when in the woods.

The tree had grown up from a stump

He thought the tree was six years old

And old enough to raise some nuts

Which he had taken just to see

If they would grow around the yard.

We roasted most, but two Dad kept

To freeze them both before the spring

Then when spring came he planted them

And sure enough  those nuts did root

They grew five years and each had nuts

Which we picked when the frost did hit

But that was all we ever had

They died from blight in the next year.

My father also had a great

Collection of all types of eggs

From shore birds, song birds, great horned owl

To hawks and game birds of all kinds

He drilled them out, got out the yolks

Then catalogued each set of eggs

This isn’t something done today

For taking eggs is not allowed.

            -8-

Dad taught me most of what I knew

Concerning life out in the woods

Of how to fish, or hunt, or trap

Or just to listen to the birds

And recognize each one at once

By its singing, hoot, or shriek

For each owl had a different hoot

And each hawk a different cry.

Now Dad was a religious man

He read his Bible every night

And once I can remember him

Sitting in our dining room, and

Talking, once so late at night

When I should have been fast asleep

To missionaries now I’m sure

What came of that I do not know.

But in his bookcase we did find

Two pamphlets from some writers who

Came from the Mormons in Salt Lake

One was by Parley Pratt I know

“A Voice of Warning” was its name

The other now I don’t recall

But these two books led me to think

That Mormons were the ones that night.

            -9-

My Dad and I did camp a lot

When I was just a little boy

‘Twas after our debacle at

Our tenting place on old Beach Pond

We camped a lot on the Pratt place

And once at the Bannister Springs

On land once owned by Welky T.

Now part of the Pachaug forest.

It was here that I first heard the

Flute like notes of the Veery thrush

At evening when the woods did ring

With its trebling notes that sounded

Like someone coming down the scale

My Dad then wanted me to know

This type of thrush lived in deep woods

And could be heard at evening time.

He also wanted me to hear

The three note tune of the wood thrush

That also sang when sun was down

And could be heard until the dark

But sometimes was so interspersed

With Veerys, that when these two birds

Sang in the dusk, the woods would ring

With songs we both did love to hear.

            -10-

My Dad was always stressed a lot

When as a boy just growing up

He watched his brother as he died

A wagon wheel ran over him

His brother, though he hurt inside

Made Dad promise to never tell

What happened on that fateful day

He feared his father’s angry words

My father’s dad was mostly gone

Aboard the ship he called his home

So rarely did he see Dad’s mom

And when he did was often drunk

My grandmother then made the choice

That a divorce was best for all

And so she took that step, then found

She could not make it all alone.

And so she sent my Dad to stay

At St. Marks school for orphaned boys

Though not an orphaned boy as such

He was the oldest of the three

And was the one that best could cope.

So off he went, and soon was sent

On a youthful apprenticeship

To learn some form of useful trade.

            -11-

And so my Dad’s apprenticeship

Was with an excellent goldsmith

Who taught Dad much of what he knew

For over seven years or more

But ere he finished, Dad did go

Upon the ship his father sailed

To work his way upon the sea

And so became the cabin boy.

I can remember how Dad told

Of sailing ‘round Cape Hatteras

Off the Carolinas coast, in

A gale that wracked his ship so hard

It kept his father working long

For as the ship’s carpenter, he

Fixed all wood damage to the ship

And Dad was glad at voyage end.

Three years after he’d left the ship

He joined Rhode Island’s cavalry

And went to Texas where he fought

Against Pancho Villa’s Mexicans

But soon that little war o’er

He then went with his cavalry

To fight again in World War I

With no horse but a machine gun.

            -12-

Now when the war in France was done

He came back home and met my Mom

They soon were married, then they went

To honeymoon for just a while

And then when Dad went off to work

At Narragansett Electric

They started their own family

Of Sue, then Ted, Mary and Ray.

Now Dad was an old Yankee too

Who knew the woods, the streams, the ponds

For he had camped when he was young

Around the hills near Escoheag

He used to take the milk train run

From Providence to Greene, alone

Then backpacked the remaining miles

To Escoheag and there made camp.

But all the effort on Dad’s part

From his loss at his brother’s death

To the divorce of mom and dad

And then the time spent at St Marks

Then off on his apprenticeship

His sailing in a great, great storm

The wars in Texas and in France

All added to his great concerns.

            -13-

And so my Dad had lots of stress

But none of this then did I know

For heart problems, a family trait

Was the main cause of early death

For Dad had chest pains now and then

But only did my mother know

She kept it quiet, while he took

The digitalis prescribed for him.

Now Dad began to slow it down

He did a little less each year

Especially at the Beach Pond house

No longer did he roam the trails

Or care to stay out fishing late

For horned pout which he loved to eat

Or paddle off in my canoe

He’d just sit on the porch and watch.

I should have known something was wrong

But being young I chalked it up

To older years and nothing more

For we, his children were of age

To take some of the burden off

His shoulders, and my mother’s too

We did our best, yet he grew worse

And the depression days didn’t help.

            -14-

And so my Dad was near to death

When I returned from old Beach Pond

Called to come back by Mother’s note

So anxious ‘bout my father’s health

My Mom explained, and then I knew

My Dad’s condition was not good

That he could go at any time

Yet Dad insisted I go back.

I came back home in late July

And then we talked of what we’d do

For he was going, this he knew.

He gave to me his Two Nineteen

The Zipper made by Winchester

And said to sell the other guns

But keep the bows and arrows too.

“For you may want them at some time.”

A month went by and he got worse

There was no more that we could do

So he went to the hospital

They put him under oxygen

But he had been there just two days

When we received a late night call

That Dad was gone, we cried and cried

We’d lost our Dad, I'd lost a friend.

            -15-

We buried him beneath the sod

Out in Rumford Cemetery

And bought for him a modest stone

That gave his name, date born, date died.

Was born in eighteen eighty-nine

And died in nineteen forty-two

But what that stone will never know

Is what a dad he was to me.

I often go to see his grave

My mother lies there now as well

My wife and I plant flowers there

Then we’ll visit other graves of

Relatives, who have gone their way

That all of us must go someday

And when it’s my time then I’ll see

My Dad again, with family.

Jessie Louise Cole and Raymond Hall Baker