I remember my Dad as handsome, creative, steadfast & brave.
Not necessarily in that order, but only good memories prevail.
My Dad, William Herald Allbritten, born Aug. 3, 1922, (or on the 8th as my Granny declared till she died).
So, we celebrated BOTH dates.
Born in Sulpher Springs, Tennessee, Dad was from a Scottish, Irish, English heritage.
When dad was young his family of 8 siblings lived in a circle of wooden homes around a natural Artesian well where people came to recover from illness, or simply relax. Life was good until the TVA flooded their property and the family split into fragments all over the Midwest. Dad ended up living with his older sister in Akron, Ohio.
My father served in the Army during World War 11 as member of the Military Police (MP) and traveled to Germany, Austria and France. He never spoke of the war.
It was at a USO dance when my dad met my mom. It was love at first site and when he got out of the army they married and started our family.
Grand Rapids, Michigan, 1945 wedding, then two kids by 1948
My earliest recollection was Dad teaching Drew and I how to be good campers. Our summers were spent traveling and setting up our camp sites. We knew how to put a tent up and down in no time at all. We loved living in nature because of my Dad.
Here he is teaching us how to make a fire.
Dad was also our “Skinny Santa” (but we knew it was him).
My most treasured memory, though, was my dad’s love of ballroom dancing. His 6’4″ frame would glide across the floor like butter. He taught me how to dance and I cherished this time together.
So, Dad, even though you are gone from your presence on earth, I feel your love and energy all around me, everyday.
Thanks for being my Dad. I love you still.
PS. To read more about my Dad, go to my memoir, ‘Forgetting To Fly’, chapter 23, page 175.