Corned beef is bubbling on the burner. Turnip, cabbage, carrots, potatoes are ready to be added to the salty liquor. 

Bran or graham muffins are always a treat with a boiled dinner — one of Dad’s favorite meals. Let’s make apple pie for dessert.

Each time I smell the distinct aroma of a boiled dinner, I am reminded of the many times I cooked it, especially for his birthday or “Dad’s day,” as we called it.

This is my first recollection of Dad. When I was 3 years old, my baby sister was 6 weeks old and had whooping cough. He took her outside and turned her upside down. I was so frightened that my baby sister was going to die. And I am sure he was more frightened than I. God was watching over us that day. “Baby sister” left us at age 83. 

Dad proudly belong to the Masonic Lodge. He large, framed certificate dated June 20, 1928, always hung on the wall at the head of the stairs. Dad was not a person who showed affection, perhaps because he was the elder of 15 brothers and sisters during many of the rough times of our country endured. But I knew he cared, for he often took me by the hand to watch the blacksmith to shoe horses — he knew I loved horses.

I would get a ride in the wheelbarrow as he went to the ice house to get ice for the old wooden chest. It meant I walked back, but I happily charged alongside with my hand on the handles of the wheelbarrow.

Summer Sunday mornings, he often would visit old friends in town. We call them shut-ins now. Another venture he allowed me to go on. As they talked of old times, I would listen intently, realizing now that was my birth of my love for my hometown.

Often a visit to the dentist brings back the memory of a loose tooth. No amount of coaxing would let anyone near me. But soon, not saying a word, Dad would go to the drawer for a clean handkerchief, and I knew it was time. My eyes watered, but I refused to cry. After the ordeal was over, I was given 5 cents to go for an ice cream.

Being the older of his two daughters, I felt he’d wished I had been a boy. Perhaps that is why I was a tomboy, and preferred climbing trees, having boxing matches with the boys or playing baseball to doing “girl things.”

I had two daughters also. Dad loved his granddaughters dearly, but when our first grandchild was a boy, that “young fella” could do no wrong. That grandson was 7 when dad died. I saw Dad mellow during those seven years. 

Dad had the uncanny ability to remember people, places and dates, and in some cases the day and hour of the happening. He was an early riser; even after retirement, the stove covers rattled much too early. He never forgot the Depression, nor did he let anyone else forget. He was a firm believer that if his grandfather got along without it, he could too. His entire life he had one car, a Model T. One day when he was at work, mother decided she wanted to drive and ran the “T” into a tree in the yard!

After years of a hand pump in the kitchen, he finally install the faucet. Hot water? A tank on the kitchen stove.

Dad lived to see his daughters marry and have a much easier life than he had, although I am sure his simple way of life is exactly what he wanted.

After all, is an uncomplicated life all that bad? 

Happy Dad’s Day! I sure miss the ride in my Model T.

Evelyn Potter is a resident of Readfield.