If my father had lived until July 3 of this year, he would have celebrated his 85th birthday.
Unfortunately, James Edward "Tom" Webster succumbed to cancer seven years ago this past March. It was not until I was older and had children of my own that I fully appreciated what a great father "Tom" Webster was to his eight children. My father or "Daddy" as we referred to him, only completed the fourth grade, but accomplished more than many people with more formal education. He was from the old school and did things the hard way. He and my mother bought land and a house early in their marriage and later made it part of the deal to acquire a 98-acre farm in 1966. All of my father's jobs involved arduous labor. He began driving a brick truck at a time when drivers had to load the trucks by hand. He began farming tobacco when plowing was done by mule. I remember how exasperated he was when two of my older brothers put the harness on the mule upside down and when one of my brothers didn't know "gee" from "haw", the mule plowed up a lot of Dad's tobacco. I remember my father leaving home early before we arose from bed and returning often after nightfall. Nevertheless, he always came home daily. "I love you" was not a part of my father's vocabulary in my childhood. He would "thump" the heads of his boys when he arrived home from work. It hurt, but that was Dad's way of demonstrating his love for us.
My father was a man of faith mixed with stubbornness and perseverance. He was a deacon in our church in the same community where he grew up. He did not always have the right understanding of scripture and often did not agree with the Pastor's way of doing things, but he never quit the church. I would often see him beside my mother, both on their knees bedside reciting their nightly prayers. It took a lot of praying to provide for eight children in rural North Carolina beginning just after World War II ended. We were never hungry. Often someone from the community would stop by unannounced at dinnertime as we were gathered around the kitchen table. My parents would greet them by saying, "Come on in and join us. We have plenty, such as is." Indeed we did. During the summer months, we had fresh corn, green beans, squash, potatoes, tomatoes and "fat back" meat. My father seemed to be satisfied even if he had just a glass of buttermilk mixed with corn bread. Fried chicken was often the treat for the Sunday meal. I loved mama's pinto beans, a southern staple year round. During the winter, daddy killed hogs and we often had sausage or ham for breakfast and liver or tenderloin for dinner.
My parents were married for almost 57 years when my father died. Since both of them were strong willed, their way of communication included lively discussions about trivial matters. On one occasion, late in my father's life, he and my mother were "fussing" about something, when my mother, said, "Now Tom you can't be that ignorant." Probably without thinking, my father instantly responded, "how come I can't?" I break into laughter every time I think about that comment. But that was James Edward "Tom" Webster. His legacy to his family is a hard work ethic and a "how come I can't" spirit that didn't allow him to quit or succumb to obstacles. One of my uncles told me that even in the early years when money was very scarce, "if you bought a "Coke" (Coca Cola), "Tom" could buy one." Daddy was no beggar. On his death bed, as tears flowed down my cheeks, Daddy talked with me about how he had always worked hard for a living. My father's "how come I can't" spirit served him well and will continue to serve his children and his children's children for many years to come. Well done daddy. You too made a difference for your family and community. "Happy Father's Day" Daddy!
