Leo Elvin Butterfield. My Dad.
His dad was Leo Sumner Butterfield, so my dad goes by Elvin.
To me, he's always been Daddy. Even at 53 years of age, I say Daddy when I talk to him or refer to him. I've always called him that.
Always will.
I have memories that are more like moments. I suppose most memories are that way, but I'll describe mine that way, since I didn't have the typical "Little Girl and Her Daddy" relationship I would have loved to and deserved to have.
Our "moments" were when things were calm in our household. Although, I have a few memories of the upsetting times, as well, I won't write about them.
My dad worked in a lumber mill. As far as I know, he began his lumber mill career at an early age.
I remember him coming home at lunch time and I can still sense the smell of his clothes.. his sweat and the sawdust from the lumber. The combination of the two is a mixture of calm.
Daddy came home each day for lunch and we all sat down for sandwiches. He usually had Braunschweiger (ugh !) on crackers with mayonaise or on a sandwich. I remember the slices of this liver sausage had the plastic sleeve on them and you had to peel it off before eating it. He loved the stuff... I think it's disgusting.
As a very young toddler, my dad was granted custody of my older sister and I. We were raised by him and my step-mom till I was 12 and my sister was 14.
Part of the time, things were "normal". Other times, things were bi-polar. I don't know how my dad stayed all those years, except for the fact that he had 3 biological and 2 step-children to raise and he believed in taking care of his family.
That aside...
My dad was a musician on weekends. He formed a country western band with several buddies and once a month or so, they gathered at our house for practice.
Oh, we kids loved those nights.
In our small living room, there was a drum set, a steel guitar, a lead guitar and a bass guitar with musicians behind each one.
Singing, we kids danced and got to stay up late. The adults smoked cigarettes in the house, drank mixed drinks and laughed and sometimes danced. The neighbors came... it was like a party... only it was band practice.
I still love classic country music.
I'm sure there are alot of typical things I don't remember, but the ones that were special to me were when I got to do things with my dad that none of the other kids did.
We got whole milk from our neighbor up the hill. I don't know how often, but Daddy and I walked to their house to get the gallon jar of milk. I loved doing that. I remember seeing that jar of fresh milk with a layer of cream a couple inches thick. I'm sure Daddy teased me as we walked to and from ... he is a teaser like my grandpa was (and I am, now).
I always thought my dad was a "que sera sera" type person. As I've aged and seem to have gotten to know him more, I realize he is a person who just doesn't voice much about things. He forms his feelings, but is confident enough to hold those feelings as his own.
He and I have had a few wonderful talks in the last few years and I understand him more and more. I wish we could have known each other better earlier on and he wishes the same. But, it is what it is, and we can only live for now.
Happy Father's Day, Daddy.
I love you and I am a lucky girl.
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