Father’s Day, and All Its Parts
Jun 20th, 2009 by Marilyn
We’re on the road this weekend, toward Western Kansas, to Abilene, to stare at some pretty country, to fret about tornadoes, to visit the Eisenhower Presidential Library & Museum. We toured Ike’s boyhood home, gawked at parlor chairs and portraits and sifters, trying to find out what makes great men great.
Here in Mrs. Eisenhower’s kitchen, you can see her dough-rising box. Every other day she made nine loaves of bread to feed six boys and their father. All of their sons, central Kansas farm boys, would succeed.
But one of them would grow up to command the Army, to win the war, to live in the White House.
I think it was the bread.
Later that day we feasted at the legendary Brookville Hotel, serving fried chicken heaven since 1915.
It was an early Father’s Day dinner, and we saluted my husband and father-in-law, both great Dads. But the piping, crunchy chicken – seemingly endless legs, thighs, breasts, wings – reminded me who was missing at the table. A holiday for fathers, and for the first time without my own, eating a not-so-often treat he adored. I pushed back the hard gulp and saw what he would see – platters worth diving into, a laughing night of gluttony, a family taking pictures, rolling eyes and passing biscuits.
Back in Dep-haired teen years, my family’s favorite takeout was Brown’s Chicken – no Brookville feast, but plenty good paired with cole slaw, hush puppies, and honey. Dad would pick up his car keys, clink, and say “want to go for a ride?” Picking up stuff with Dad meant 8-track tunes and quick, friendly questions about boys, friends, classes, boys. Eyes would roll, but I didn’t mind. Something about the car rides was pleasant, okay even in teen view, an argument-free zone with a bag of warm chicken on my lap. Dad tapped out songs on the wheel and drove with his elbows, a knee, a thumb.
My father loved corn – on the cob, in a fresh juicy heap, or creamed, as we had it here, passed around the table more than once. His stomach forbade him to eat the corn, but not to say he wanted to eat the corn. “I love corn,” he’d say, “but I can’t eat it.” A predictable three minutes later, “well…maybe this once.”
Happy Father’s Day to you and yours. Great men aren’t here just once. They go where we go, and I will snicker and cry and pass around more biscuits. All the best parts are still with us at the table.
* my father passed away December 5, 2008. Here’s the place to read more about him, and the eulogy I delivered that day.
I love the last three sentences. I reread them several times just to savor them. Well done and true.
I want fried chicken, that dough rising contraption and well, yanno…
Fried chicken and biscuits…. mmm. Have a great trip!
Am 31 years without Daddy here, but I still remember the first year, getting through each rite of passage that presented itself (birthdays, Father’s Day, *bat mitzvah*?), all raw and inconsolable.
But you are right: Great men are here a longer time than their time in literal life days.
And you are also right about corn: Creamed is very good, and to tell the truth, I like a good corn pudding even better. Cholesterol be damned, full steam ahead. Got a recipe?
Love to you and your clan.
beautiful words…so true…and beautiful photos to lead us through…
Hope your weekend was delightful!
(We were 30 miles further west from you last night celebrating Father’s Day with the fathers on my side of the family and I was thinking about you in the bad weather.)
Love the pictures from the Brookville Hotel! I grew up on their chicken before the hotel was moved to Abilene. Yummmmmm!
Muddywaters (Mike): thank you. Hope your Father’s Day was a swell time!
Jean (RT): the dough-rising contraption was beautiful and functional. It was covet-worthy.
Modernemama (Jane): worth the trip! Not sure – do they have fried chicken places up there?
Margaret: they might as well hang a “cholesterol be damned” sign up there – just how it is. Thanks for the kind words; I’ll get a creamed (fresh) corn recipe up soon.
Theresa: nice, but not your brand of photo magic. Oh, those flowers!
PVS: yes, there was weather fretting. I don’t know if the Internet fuels or helps the tornado jitters. But I’m not headed West again soon.
That first Father’s Day without a dad is hard, isn’t it? It’s good to look at things as he would, though, and enjoy that fried chicken and creamed corn.
I like Ike, but i think I LOVES fried chicken more!
The best parts ARE always with us at the table. Talking about how many tacos the Uncle ate one time, the failed pies you could eat with a straw, and the family stories of those no longer sitting at the table with us.
Exactly why we have family dinners!
Thanks for the great post. N
(another) fabulous post – I loved every word of it.
I loved your description of going for a ride with your Dad. The whole post was swell, and my oh my that food! My grandmother-in-law said that very thing to me yesteday after telling me about the corn on the cob she’d enjoyed “I’m not supposed to eat corn but…”
Jayne: you speak from experience, I think. Yes, it’s a bit of a comfort game to see what they saw – but it’s a gift if you can. Take care.
Nella: I agree about those best parts. And you cracked me up with: “failed pies you could eat with a straw.” Mmm. Straw pie.
the boy: I know you loves you some fried chicken. A specialty here in the Midwest US of A, so any time. Your futon awaits!
Lori: thank you. He was a fun guy, was he not?
Sara: lovely to see you here. Isn’t it funny how all forbidden foods are eaten immediately after “I shouldn’t, but?”
Thank you for this beautiful portrait. Among the many moving words, it was actually that bit about the warm chicken on your lap that I found most stirring. Memory is really something, the way it plays on all of our senses. It sounds to me like your father was, indeed, still very much present at your table.
From drooling over fried chicken to bawling my eyes out in about 3.2 seconds flat. That’s got to be some kind of record. As always, I am filled with your beautiful words. Words strong enough to make me feel like I actually knew your dad a little. That’s something.
Loverly post. I love the corn story — ha!! Totally something my dad would’ve said. I lost my dad (also an accountant, btw.
a few years ago, just days before father’s day. This will always be a not-so-happy time of year for me now as a result. But there will always be the memories…and all the best parts are still with me at the table.
Thank you, this is lovely and very very touching.
So sorry for the loss of your father!
If only I had know that you were coming to my hometown! I would have shown you a really good time. Even though we live here in Abilene, we still love to go to the Eisenhower Center. Did you drive around town and see all the neat old houses or stop out at Eisenhower Park? (Might have been too hot for that!) I love Brookville chicken but I REALLY love the creamed corn and the coleslaw! I know there are several recipes on the web for those two items and right now my budget is better served by making them at home.
GUESS WHAT I JUST HAD FOR DINNER!!!
Brookville!
My mom picked it up on her way across the state.
SOOOOOO GOOOOOD!
I am completely catatonic and will never get off this couch again.
Thanks for all the Paris info. We are going to use every bit of it.