My husband loves to call me Joe Porter. I guess he is right in so many ways. I just smile now when he says it. One of those moments was a recent Sunday sitting in church. During the middle of the sermon that I was intently listening to (really), I reached down, got my purse off the floor, fumbled around for a piece of paper and a pen and at that moment Jim leaned over and whispered in my ear "Joe Porter." I just smiled at him because I knew exactly what he meant and why he said that. My daddy was forever fumbling around with his belongings and he was forever making notes. I cannot deny that I am so much that very way. However, something the pastor said sparked something in my mind that had to be written down. I don't trust my memory for anything.
Daddy's desk at Porter Brothers was such a special place for me. I loved it when he let me sit at his desk and go through his things. There were rules, of course, and I never bothered his paperwork. I just loved to organize his paper clips, rubber bands, scissors and other desk accessories. I hate to think how many times throughout the years that I have organized mine or someone else's desk! When I work at my desk either at home or at a job, I know exactly where everything is and even though it might seem like a lot of stuff or jumbled to some, it is shear organization in my mind! Jim calls our home the house of "stuff." I do like stuff, but I also like neatness and organization.
Daddy's desk at Porter Brothers had a wooden sign on the front of it with his name: Joseph M. Porter. It sat there so proudly and I felt like it made him seem so important. Of course, he was important, but the sign on his desk wasn't there to tout his place in the business, it was just there as most everyone in the building had a name sign on their desk. Hanging over my daddy's desk was an oil portrait of his father. I have had that portrait along with my dad's portrait hanging in my home for years. I have recently taken them down as I bought a new piece of furniture and the portraits wouldn't fit over it. I still have them and will hang them somewhere again someday. Or maybe one of my children would like to have them. I remember so many times someone coming into my home and asking who those two distinguished gentlemen were. I was always to proud to say "my dad and my granddad."
I never knew my grandfather because he passed away long before he was born. All I know of him is what I have been told or what I have read. I know that in 7th grade we had to take Cleveland County History. I was always excited to look at page 82 (I think), and read about my grandfather who owned the general store in Belwood!
Daddy's desk always had a certain feel and a certain smell. I loved sitting in his rolling chair and swinging around to the built in bookshelves and cabinets behind his desk. I would look at all the books and notebooks and open the cabinets to see all the business 'stuff' and I would imagine what my Daddy did all day.
I always loved the adding machine. Oh to add a whole bunch of numbers and listen to them click off and watch that adding machine tape grow out from the top of the machine. I never did too much of that because Daddy didn't want me wasting the adding machine tape! But he did let me do it every time. I guess he saw the thrill that it gave me, so it was worth wasting just a little bit of a roll of adding machine tape.
I also loved to take a pad of paper and open the middle drawer with the now neatly organized pens and pencils and write notes and scribble and doodle. Hence my nickname, Doodler!
Daddy's desk at home after he retired from Porter Brothers is now back in my bedroom. Jim was using it for work but he has managed to slowly move into the breakfast room to do his work. The days of laptops makes that possible for him. I don't mind. Now that we don't have a houseful of kids, being in that room is probably more enjoyable for Jim. I don't like to sit back in our bedroom. It is too far removed from all the 'action!'
I have been cleaning up this desk and getting it organized. I use it sometimes, but I still love my little built-in desk in the kitchen. I guess being out in the middle of the house is just the place to be! However, I am going to move more and more stuff back to the desk we have in the bedroom because it is such a big, nice desk and it was my Dad's. I want to use it. I will really be in my glory since I'll have two desks to organize and sit at to do my various note writing and bill paying.
When Daddy got that desk it was a horror getting it up the stairs and into the room he was using for his office. The desk is extremely large and heavy. Unfortunately, he didn't get to use that office long. He retired in August and died the following April. I remember going up there after he passed away and once I was able to get through his stuff without breaking down, I did enjoy seeing all the snippets of his life in that desk.
Daddy had legal pads filled with notes. He had things listed like: buy stamps, call Gus and Elaine, write Martha, pick up dry cleaning, buy birthday card for Mama, etc. To this day, I have a legal pad front and center on my desk with pages and pages of notes like that. Jim teased me once about adding things on my list like: go grocery shopping or visit Mom. I laughed and took the teasing....because he was right! Those things were on my list. If it isn't on the list, it probably isn't happening!
I still have a briefcase full of stuff that I took from Daddy's desk. It is up on the top shelf of my closet. I have looked through it a couple of times and slowly I have thrown away some things, but I know I won't be able to throw everything away. I have to hold on to some things that were so personally Daddy.
I definitely am my Daddy's daughter, but I don't mind. I learned the most important things in life from my Daddy. He loved his family, Jesus and his friends. He kept up with people's birthdays and anniversaries. He wrote notes to people and surprised people with newspaper clippings, gifts, and jokes. He received recipes in the mail from a friend he had who loved to cook and he always wrote him back thanking him for sending the recipes. He never forgot to pay his bills, make his church pledge or go to a board meeting. His friends knew he was thinking of them because he sent them cards, notes, or gave them a phone call. He was never without a starched shirt or toothpaste, because he had on his list to pick up his dry-cleaning or go to the drugstore and buy toothpaste.
I miss my Daddy so much, even after all this time. Some days I just feel like I'm going to burst because I want to talk to him. I want to ask him about his father. I want to show him my paintings. I want him to see my children who are all grown up now. I want him to walk down the aisle with my Mom at Madeline's wedding. I want to ask his advice about some investments. I want to show him my lemon tree and my new bird feeder. I want him to know that Mom is okay. That I am okay.
I have to trust the greatest thing he ever taught me and that is that HE is okay. He walks with Jesus and he probably does, in some way, know all these things about me. I hope he gets a chuckle when he hears about my fumbling, note-taking and that my organizational skills model his to a T. I hope he knows that I wear the nickname he gave me many years ago proudly......Doodler is okay and is eternally grateful for all the things that were and are Joseph Mills Porter.
And memories will continue to be made of this.
Not Really Gone
My dad is gone for eight months.
I miss him every day;
But I find solace thinking this--
If he were here, he'd say:
I've left and yet I'm with you still;
Your mirror doesn't lie.
But better, look inside yourself;
Your heart will verify.
I taught you how to cope with life,
The good and bad to face.
I shared the love a father has
That nothing can replace.
Remember, I still live in you;
Don't cry because I know
The best of me goes on each day,
As my grandchildren grow.
~Kathleen Y. Bergeron
The above poem was on my refrigerator when I came home one day in 1988. My mom came in and put it there. It has been on my refrigerator ever since. It is now yellowed with age, but I love it so much. I love that my mom did that for me. She knew what a rough time I was having and these words really spoke to me.
