For My Papa

Things He Taught Me:
Dad taught me his ‘plat deuch’ or Pennsylvanian Dutch language he spoke as a boy. He joined the colony at age 11 with his father and passed a few sentences on to me.

He also taught me how to drive at about age 10. Airport was the one place in the world where you where scared to see a pickup truck coming towards you with no driver. When it came close though, you could see a tiny little head pop out just over the steering. That’s how young we learned to drive on the farm barely reaching the paddles. I still remember the first curve I ever made or almost didn’t make. I turned the steering way too far and almost hit the ditch. Dad was so cool, he just grabbed it with one hand and said “Whoa, not so far” with no fuss at all. He is still a very good teacher, patient and lets you find things out on your own. I remember watching a young women learning to drive with her dad and he was being very helpful, in fact, so helpful that she was in tears and stopped in the middle of the city to ask him to please let her do the driving.

Things He did for me:
Dad took us to the Delta beach on the hot summer evenings about 15 miles off the colony, we would cool off and play in the water for a good two hours and then leave in the van refreshed.

He fixed my bike’s flat tire quite a few times in the evenings. I would follow close behind and watch his every move and soon I thought that I could do it on my own. So I went ahead and tried, everything worked out fine taking it off and patching the tube but I just couldn’t get it back onto the tire. I think I made several more holes forcing it on with a striate screwdriver.

Special Memories:
One night we had a flat on the old van on the cement road about a mile from home. I was very young, maybe about 5 or so and of course I was afraid of the dark. When dad was done having a look, he decided that we would have to walk home. Well, I couldn’t see a thing, it was darker than black. Dad held my hand all the way home and I remember how safe I felt knowing that the hand that was holding mine could be trusted and would watch over me.

Things He Said:
My dad would always say: “Too many chiefs, and not enough Indians.” He is still one of the best Indians I know of, humbly doing his part for the whole.