A COOKIE CONFESSION

This post is the second in my DASH series for #52Stories.

I have a confession to make about something I did really wrong as a young girl!  I made cookies!! Oh, how I loved to make cookies.  Oatmeal raisin and chocolate chips were my favorite cookies to bake!  I was a dough eater too! Yummy! But that is NOT part of the confession.  

So, why, may you ask was it so wrong for me to bake cookies?  There was someone in my family who couldn't eat them because of type 2 diabetes. That person was my Dad. I would make these yummy cookies that would smell so good and be so tempting and then get mad at him for eating them!!  I did NOT realize at the time how hard it is to look at yummy, fresh out of the oven treats and resist them!  BUT. I. DO. NOW!

Fast forward fifty of so years, and guess who is dealing with type 2 diabetes?  Yep, that would be me!  I was diagnosed about 12 years ago and have tried hard to regulate my blood sugar with diet and exercise alone. And let me tell you it is HARD!  As I am getting older it is getting more difficult to control and I now realize how hard it is to resist all the myriad of yummy goodies that are out there. Even a little cheating is not an option for me anymore. I feel bad that I put all that temptation in front of my dad and just expected him to be strong and pass them by! I am definitely learning empathy for those that have to eat differently. 

I am also learning some new strategies in dealing with diabetes and am feeling empowered to take better control of what I put into my body. 
I just wish I could tell my Dad how sorry I am for putting temptations in his way.  Somehow, I think he would understand.  

Finding Family

Seven weeks ago something happened that I would have never imagined.  I received a phone call from my daughter in law, Sariah, regarding an e-mail she said I might be interested in. It was from Ron, a half brother of mine who was looking for people related to our Dad.  He had found her name with an e-mail address on a Rootsweb's page associated with my Dad. Was I ever excited!! Yes, of course. 

You see, I had known that my father had another family although he never talked about them. Never shared a picture, nothing!  We had heard there was a bitter divorce. Our family moved across the country when I was six years old.  I didn't know the names of these children until several years after my fathers death, when my Aunt Phyllis shared them with me. I was surprised, there were four boys and two girls!!  What a big family!! Any other information was all hush, hush, and I was basically told to leave well enough alone.

I had often wondered about this family.  What were they like? How did they survive without a father in their lives?  Would they want contact from us?  Or would that be too painful?  With rather common names it was like looking for a needle in a haystack and I never seriously pursued the search.

As soon as possible I e-mailed Ron and the next day we talked for a long time on the phone.  Life had been hard, but he has forgiven our Dad for what he did, or I should say didn't do.  Ron struggled with bitterness, and alcohol, but turned his life around over 30 years ago.  He is an amazing man and has forgiven our father for what he did to their family!  According to Ron, there never was a divorce only a legal separation, and my dad never paid the family a penny.  That answered a few questions for me, like why our family moved so many times when I was growing up and why my parents got "remarried" when I was a teenager.


In the next few weeks I started to make contact with other family members via Facebook.  There are tons of nieces and nephews I am still trying to figure it all out. We have shared many pictures back and forth and are trying to get to know each other.  I have also had the opportunity to talk to two of my sisters on the phone  (Yeah, sisters, I always wanted sisters!!)  The end of this month, I'm going to be able to meet one of the sisters when she comes out west to visit her son.  I have learned from both of them.  Barbara told me that she was sorry she didn't get to see our Dad one more time before he died, just to tell him, "it's ok".  Gloria was also very forgiving. She also wondered about us too, but didn't think we would care.  How far from the truth.


My perception of my father, though has changed.  I used to characterize him as a honest person.Honest people don't dessert their families.  I look at pictures of him with my half siblings and it makes me sad.  I look at pictures of him with the family I grew up with and think it's not fair.  I used to think I was a Daddy's girl.  But, I don't want to be that now, because it was at the expense of other children.  I know I have quite a ways to go to be forgiving, and I WILL get there with some time.  I know that he can receive the Lord's forgiveness, and I must forgive also. 


The youngest of the children, Kenneth, died in 1990 at the young age of 44.  I'm sad that I was not able to know him.  There are still two more brothers I would like to contact in the future somehow. 

Kenneth David, 1946-1990

I can't help but think about the timing of all this.  Six weeks after my mother died, and four weeks after my release from my family history mission.  Is my mom, helping with this somehow on the other side?  Is this just an incredible blessing for serving a mission?  I don't know, but I'm thrilled beyond belief to have this family in my life!

The JOB

This week's Slice of Life is The J.O.B.  The 1930 census lists my Dad as a shipper in a shoe shop.  He was living in North Chelmsford, Massachusetts at the time.  I believe shortly after that he moved to New Hampshire.  Dad continued to work in a shoe factory.  By the time I was born my Dad still worked in the Shoe Business.  Here is a newspaper clipping that I found among my mother's things.   I don't have a date or a newspaper, but believe it is between 1950 -1953. 

I wish I had a copy of that magazine, American Shoemaking.  I never knew as a child that he wrote any articles.   My Dad made shoes for many years.  In fact, as a child it was hard to go shoe shopping with him.  He wanted the shoes to be made perfect and would give the sales clerk a very hard time. It was embarrassing.  When I was in fourth grade my Dad worked at  The Men's Colony, a prison in California.  He helped the prisoners learn to make shoes so they would have a trade when they were released. 

He started to dabble in real estate, and liked the thought of a job where you were not confined to a building for eight or more hours.  So, in the mid 60's he changed professions and became a real estate agent.  I loved to go looking at houses with him.  While he drove I became the navigator, with a Thomas Guide Book  in hand.  I learned good map reading skills.  And to this day, if I have been somewhere once I can usually get there again.

In the early 70's he taught real estate at the local community college and helped others to get their real estate license.

My dad always wanted someone to follow him in the real estate profession.  Looking at homes was very enjoyable, but selling homes required to much math for me.  So, I went into nursing instead. But, that is another story.

Fabulous Friday's Forever Family Featuring.....

My Daddy, Paul Leo!! My dad was born in 1910 to an Irish Catholic father and a French Canadian mother. There were eleven children in the family. But only 6 lived to adulthood. This picture was taken 1828. My dad is the young man on the left. His parents are in the middle, three of his sisters in the middle and younger brother on the right. This is the earliest picture I have of him.

My dad worked in a shoe factory back East when I was little. He was married before he meet my mom. That marriage ended in a bitter divorce. My dad had five children from that marriage. I never, ever heard him talk about those kids. I have never met them. I often wonder about those half siblings!! I wonder how hard it would be to walk away from your children, never to see them again on this earth!! My Daddy and me.

When I was six my family moved out West, I think it was mainly to get away from his other family. My Dad had an Irish temper and was an alcoholic. But, he never ever abused me. The last few years of his life he stopped drinking and helped others end their habit through the Alcoholics Anonymous. I'm proud of him for that.

Playing at the Park, I was a Daddy's girl!!

My Dad was a very honest person. I remember one Christmas Eve, we had returned home from shopping and my Dad realized the clerk had given him $20 dollars extra in change. He took us right back to that store and returned the money to a very thankful clerk. I'm so glad that my father taught me to be honest by his example!!

My Mom and Dad

Another memory is shopping for shoes. YIKES!! I hated shoe shopping with my Dad. He had a great knowledge of how a good shoe was made and suppose to fit. They didn't have the self serve shoe stores in those days that they do know. Heaven forbid, we go into a shoe store where the shoes were poorly made or the clerk didn't now to fit it properly. They would definitely hear a word to two from my Dad. My brothers and I would just cringe and want to hide!! He just wanted the best made product and that's not a bad thing.

This is the picture on my Dad's last drivers license. I like his smiling Irish eyes!!

For most of my life my dad lived with heart disease. I remember visiting with my family many times and thinking it might be the last time I saw him. But he surprised me so many times!! He died at the young age of 70 after suffering his fourth heart attack. It's been over 27 years ago and I still miss him. Even though I know he wasn't perfect (I'm not either), I knew he loved me and I loved him!! I look forward seeing him again. We had a great time when we did his temple work. My Dad and all his siblings have been sealed to my grandparents. I look forward to being sealed to my Dad one day too. I love you, Dad.