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FATHER STORIES
Chapter 1
I think about my father a lot I miss him very much he was a wonderful man. I
remember the things he used to say to me, so I decided to write about it. When I was a
little girl I watched he and my mother all the time, how they got along in their
relationship. He was always kind, gentle and funny. My mother was the mean, hard, and
stern one. I guess they complimented each other and were the perfect fit. He and my
mother both are from small towns (the parishes) in Louisiana. They moved to the big city
shortly after they were married. She was an LPN (licensed practical nurse) for many
years, and he worked as a foreman at a chemical plant on Airline Highway. He was a
military man and was also a Purple Heart recipient. Hes Choctaw.
During my teenage years I remember how he liked to sit on the porch to sharpen the
blade on his pocket knife, rubbing it back and forth on the concrete steps until it almost
sparked. Hed chant softly as he did this. It seemed to be relaxing to him. And since I was
the only one that sat at his feet, he would tell me stories. He told me things about himself,
his brother and sister, when they were all young kids. How they grew up in their native
culture and knew everything there is to know about the land. They hunted for their food
and made everything they used from old material. He being the oldest of the three had to
quit school to take care of his father. He was only in the second grade.
So he started working doing what ever needed to be done to make a little money to
bring home to his mother. He ran errands for folks; he picked up dirty bottles, washed
them and sold them. He made sure that his siblings went to school everyday, wanting to
see them educated. He never said much about the golden rules, except that he couldnt
read or write very well. But all in all he had an interesting childhood. Things in those
days were different. He was born March 4, 1919.
I dont know how old he was when he went into the army, just know the he was a
young man and he fought in two wars. However I do remember seeing him in his khaki
uniform one evening. We were having a party (dont know what the occasion was) all the
relatives were there and everyone was taking pictures of him and some of his army
buddies (they were all dressed in uniforms). Looking back now, I believe that it was a
welcoming home celebration. He seemed to be about forty something years old. I
remember that photo all too well wished I had it in my keepsake.

Chapter 2
Now when I was in high school (my junior year) I decided it was time to learn to drive,
so I took Drivers Education class for two years. I remember the day when the instructor
bought us (my friend and I) to our houses so that our parents could sign the permit slips,
letting them know that we did well in class and was ready to become responsible drivers.
My father was so elated about that, he smiled from ear to ear during the entire meeting.

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And when it was over, He stood there on the top porch waving at me with great pride as I
drove off. I smiled really big back at him. Thats my daddy I said to the instructor. I felt
so secure knowing that he was watching over me and I wanted to do my best.
When I worked at the neighborhood bakery, which was right down the street from his
house, he always saw to it that I got to the job on time. And some days hed stop by with
my cousins to check on me. He wanted everyone there to know that I was his daughter.
He loved it when folks said to him, that I look just like him. Some included that I also
walk just like him too. He did the exact same thing when I worked part time in the
evenings as a telemarketer at an insurance company on Elysian Fields Avenue. I could see
him from the window sitting in the car outside, waiting for me to finish my shift at eight
thirty. I never had to ask him to do this, he just did.
When I lived on my own and didnt know how to cook certain kinds of food, he taught
me. You got to clean those collard greens real good with salt he said constantly. He
loves that I make my cornbread just like his mother. Guess it just comes naturally. He
showed me how to make dishes like homemade mashed potatoes, cabbage, salmon and
rice, grits, etc. You know the things I could buy at the store. Remind you hes Native
American. I would bring him dinners every Sunday afternoon and occasionally we (my
kids and I) took him to eat out at one of his favorite restaurants on Saturday.
My son and daughter both enjoyed spending quality time with their grandpa. They
knew early on that the weekends were reserved for visits at his house, and were just little
darlings about it. They especially liked when we got all dressed up for the holidays and
birthdays and bought gifts to him so they could play with them. Ya see, my dad loves all
things novelty. Just like myself I adore these sort of things find it fascinating. He
likes to brag to his friends about the unusual trinkets and the animation behind the
gadgets, anything from pop up cards to dancing musical whatever.

Chapter 3
Well dad abides in heaven now. And I miss and love him very, very much. I got to live
in his house once more and again heard another great story. He told me and the kids of
the time he was a soldier at Normandy in France. He talked about the things that went on
there and how war is hell. He sat on the bed looking down at the bible he was holding in
his hands, and I could his eyes tear up. He stood and walked over to the closet, (reaching
way back in there) and got a little box. Opened it and it was his medal for being wounded
in combat, the Purple Heart. He gave it to me, but I gave it right back. I wanted him to
keep it because of sentimental reasons. Hes my hero.
Oh yeah, and one day, several years ago, I drove him backatown (Im sure thats an
Indian word) to see his relatives. This was my (our) first time meeting them, and they
were white Indians, hmmm never seen white Native Americans before. They were
much older than my father and they didnt speak English at all. They just sat there
looking at me and my kids. However they did reach for our hands. Their house was

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immaculate and extremely quiet. My dad talked with them in their language and I was
amazed. It was all new to me. Their heritage lives on.
Let me tell you about the time the crusade came to town. My sisters and I were no
longer talking to one another, because of a spat that couldnt be resolved. So I stayed
away from my family for ten years (and still counting). I just love attending those events,
healing crusades, tent revivals, and camp meetings. If you ever want to experience the
power of the anointing, go to one, ok. A preachers job to convince the world that God is
real, Jesus is lord and the Holy Spirit lives forever is very challenging. In spite of the
criticism, they move forward.
A soon as we walked into the arena, looking for seats with a perfect view of the stage, I
saw my father! What are the chances of that happening? There are thousands of people
there. I couldnt believe my eyes. I knew that this was appointed by God ordering my
steps. I was so grateful and so thankful, and overwhelmed with emotions, I gave him the
biggest kiss, and the most loving hug a daughter could give to her father. I cried the entire
service. I knew that we were in the right place. I was comfortable.
The section had a full row of available seats (enough to accommodate about seven of
us) and again I knew God was doing all of this. Yep I sat next to my dad and held his
hand most of the night. My kids were happy to see their grandpa. Their little faces were
full of joy! I understood that feeling I too felt like a child again.
You see, this is why I believe. I secretly prayed to God for years for the opportunity to
talk with my father once more. He was the best human being Ive ever known. I miss the
sound of his voice, his laugher and all the funny things he said. I think we have the same
heart too, because I now know exactly how he felt when he didnt see or hear from me in
years. Sorry I put him through that.

I dedicate this little book to the memories of my father Mr. Hollis Hawk Gordon Sr.
Love you daddy xoxox.

To all my readers
God bless and prosper,
Kertranka