Daddy's Belle

I spent most of the day and evening yesterday with my first love.  I have been his special “belle” since day one.  Yes I’m talking about my sweet, sweet daddy!  It’s no secret I’m “Daddy’s girl.”  Just take a look into my big brown eyes and then glance at his that are dark as coal and you will see – there is no denying the fact that I’m his girl.  Yesterday, Daddy had back surgery – his third one, in fact.  He has also had a quadruple bypass on his heart, has beat prostate cancer and like the “energizer bunny,” he “takes a lickin’ and keeps on tickin’!”  There is a lot a southern belle learns from a daddy like mine.  Oh there are things that my mama probably wishes I hadn’t – like what she calls a stubborn streak, but Daddy and I choose to call it strong-willed and tenacious.  I suppose in the long run, Mama would have to admit that it has served us both well during difficult times, because we both have that streak of fire that just flames up and says “I won’t give up!”  Daddy’s that kind of man for sure.  

What I love most about my daddy, is that he is the epitome of a “southern gentleman.”  He has taken care of Mama and been the family protector and provider since he married her when she was at the ripe old age of 18.  They both have instilled in me southern grace, strong work ethic, social etiquette, unwavering faith, and most of all, respect for others.  Watching Daddy last night reminded me of just what a southern gentleman he is.  Now mind you, he had major back surgery at 8:00 a.m.  His spine was taped tighter than a drum from top to bottom; he had a drainage tube coming from the back and a catheter coming from… well you know from where!  He was wearing nothing more than a hospital gown barely covering his birthday suit.  Oh and some of those “smiley” hospital socks and his “Roll Tide” slippers!  The nurses would come in and out, and of course, he had to joke around with them no matter how he was feeling.  That’s Daddy.  He always wants others to feel comfortable and bring a smile.  Yes, there is no doubt I’m “Daddy’s belle.”

Mama had left for the evening.  I was still there with my son Josh.  He, too, is one of the finest southern gentlemen I know.  He learned so much from his Paw Paw.  The thing that stuck me most about Daddy last night was his manners.  Men folk down South just know how to treat a lady.  Of course we are all taught early on to say “yes ma’am or sir,” but the little boys learn early how to open doors for the women folk and to always allow them to walk in first while they stay right behind holding the door and making sure their ladies get in or out safely.  Daddy’s nurse came in and asked him if he felt like he could get up and walk a bit.  First, he said he might wait until the next morning since he was kinda sore.  But then she told him if he wanted to get rid of that awful catheter he had to become ambulatory.  That grin that makes my heart smile spread across his face.  “Well you know I think I can try a little walk!”  The Rich stubbornness kicked in mighty fast once Daddy knew he might be set free from that contraption. 

In a few minutes, the nurse came back with an extra hospital gown to wrap around his backside.  Guess she knew Daddy wouldn’t be too thrilled about mooning half the hospital!  He is modest and though his dry sense of humor hides it well, he is actually a bit shy.  Well anyway, the nurse helps him out of bed, drapes the drainage tube and the catheter bag over his arm then takes him by the  hand to start their walk.  Daddy says “well we’re off to the races!”  Then they meander to the door, at which point he tries to reach for the door to open it for her and then waits for her to go out first.  She told him that he needed to go out first since she was holding on to him and needed to get the door so he could be more sure footed.  I laughed and told her she was in the presence of a southern gentleman that had been raised to open doors.  A while later, the two of them came back and once again he steps back to let her in the door first!  She just laughs and tells him to go on in. 

Watching Daddy last night reminded me of how he had taken care of me and also how he had treated Mama my whole life.  It didn’t matter how hard he had worked during the day (or night when he was on night shift), he would take care of “honey do’s” after work without fail.  Each morning he would always be up before the sun to make sure we were up and ready for school.  (How I despised him when he flipped on the overhead light and pulled back the covers on cold mornings!)  The lawn was always like velvet, the house maintained like a well oiled machine and we never had a day in our lives that we did without.  Daddy taught me how to ride my bike (and dried my tears when I fell and skinned my knees on our oyster shell driveway); he sat through scores of boring piano recitals and flashed that handsome smile each day that he would pass through the living room while I practiced for hours on end.  He never asked me to stop when he was napping.  Daddy coaxed me down from a tree swing when my fear of heights took over, spanked the tar out of my little brother when he forgot I was a “girl” and had punched me in the stomach during a siblings fight.  He taught my brother early on the rules of being a southern gentleman, which my brother lives out to perfection with his wife and has taught his grown son as well.  Pretty amazing heritage for our boys I would say!

I guess what I’m most amazed about as I think about Daddy and as I watched him last night, was the fact that I spent a number of years in my life not feeling like a “belle.”  By that I mean not feeling my worth as a girl and a woman.  Lord knows it wasn’t because Daddy didn’t instill it in me.  He was my biggest fan and I was his baby girl!  Oh, sometimes we “butted heads” when my strong-willed streak crossed his, but there was nothing Daddy wouldn’t do for me.  I knew that then and know it even more now because at almost eighty-one years old, he still takes care of me in so many ways.  I don’t know if all of my sweet belles out there have a similar story to tell about your Daddy.  I wish all of you could experience the kind of love my sweet “southern gentleman” gives.  If not though, I know a “gentleman” that looks down on you every day and says “that’s my baby girl and I love her!”  So when you go about your day and some random stranger opens the door for you, or your honey helps get the kids off to school in the morning; when a nice older gentleman reaches down and picks up that item you dropped while standing in the check out line, or when the neighbor puts your garbage can back after the trash truck throws it in the street, look deep into their eyes and I have a suspicion that you might see “Daddy’s” eyes staring back at you.  Never forget what a treasure you are!  You are “Daddy’s belle!” 

Love y'all!
Starla

Me and my sweet Daddy 

when I was about 4 years old..