My Dad...

was born on January 1, 1922 in Benwood, West Virginia. Like most children of his time, he was born at home. Dad, or Donald Lowell, was the third of eight children born to Rhea and Vito Iannone.

Benwood, a small dirty steel and railroad town along the Ohio River just south of Wheeling, was an industrious place in the 1920s. It was the perfect place for hardworking immigrant families like the Iannones to make a living and raise their children.

Grandpap Iannone worked on the railroad like his father Domenico. Grandma Iannone, like most women of her time, ran the household and cared for the children. Life was not easy, but even hardship has a way of shaping people in the right direction.

As a child, Dad had a German shepherd Rin, who he proudly named after the famous Rin Tin Tin. Rin was very loyal to Dad and protected him as a youngster on more than one occasion. Benwood was a tough place and boys learned to use their fists early in life to avoid a walloping by the neighborhood bully.

The Thirties were hard times for everyone, but especially America's working class. Dad dropped out of high school in 1938 to get a job at the local gas station to help the family make ends meet. There he learned to "turn wrenches," as he used to say, and pick a guitar, which was his way of relaxing.

The War came in 1941 and Dad enlisted in the Navy. He spent the next four years on board various ships in the South Pacific. As Dad used to say, he got to see the world at Uncle Sam's expense. Dad was never one to talk much about those four years, but he always said he would do it again if he was needed. I know he was proud to serve His Country.

After the end of the War, Dad took a job as a mechanic with Willy's Jeep in Wheeling. He enjoyed fixing things and making them work better. Dad met Mom in 1946 and they were married in '47. I did not come along until 1951, so Mom and Dad had four years to enjoy life before I started taking over their schedules.

Americans sought stability during the years immediately following World War II. Men worked hard at their jobs. Women stayed home and cared for their families. Sylvania Electric opened a new lighting plant in South Wheeling in 1952 and Dad took a job there working on the assembly line. I can still see Dad's black metal lunch pail, which always held a thermos of coffee, two sandwiches, a piece of fruit, and either some cookies or a leftover piece of Mom's cake. Those were the days of waxed paper. No plastic baggies in the '50s.

Dad's mechanical talents landed him a job as the chief maintenance mechanic in the plant. We worked hard and eventually became the maintenance supervisor, which meant he had to rise five days a week at 3:30 AM to check out the plant's equipment and machinery at 5:30 AM. Maybe that is why I get up so damn early in the morning.

Many mornings Dad would sit at the kitchen table, drink a cup of piping hot coffee, and write little poems. He loved to start his day quietly without any fanfare. I can remember trying to get up with Dad at that early hour. Usually, he would send me back to bed, insisting that I get another couple hours of sleep so my brain would work in school. Many winter mornings I would lie in bed listening to Dad warm up the old family car and scrap the snow and ice off the windows. I always waited to hear the car drive off before I would allow myself to go back to sleep.

Dad was a quiet man. It took some work to get to know him. Maybe that is why I studied his lunch box so much, or searched for those scraps of paper in the cupboard containing his little morning poems. To know Dad, you had to look at the small things in his life.

One of my favorite times with Dad was grocery shopping every Friday evening. It was ritual that he and I shared. It was our special time together. Dad always cashed his check at the local grocery store. Sometimes he would let me hold the money for a minute or two. He used to say "this is what people work for," then take the pile of bills back and fold them into his well-worn brown leather wallet.

Like his father, Dad had huge strong hands. He was a lefty, which made it challenging to follow his batting instructions at times. Dad lost the tip of one of his index fingers during the War. Fortunately, that was his only injury. Dad's hands could make an engine purr, make words dance on a page, and make his old guitar play like a Carnegie Hall musical instrument.

Dad was always a proud man who believed that hard work never hurt a man. He is probably the least pretentious person I know. I think he enjoyed his work. He didn't mind getting dirty. He would tackle the tough jobs that most people went out of their way to avoid. He loved taking an old lawnmower, bicycle, television set, and other things discarded by others and making them work again. Everything had value to Dad. Nothing was too old or too broken to make work again. I guess my Dad is a real "sustainability" guy. At times, Mom was frustrated by Dad's unwillingness to let go of the old things and buy new ones. Mom always wanted new things to decorate her house.

Even though Dad left high school after this sophomore year, he never stopped learning. He faithfully worked the crossword puzzles in the daily newspaper. He was always sending us to the dictionary to find new words that he encountered. Dad studied and passed his GED in 1963. I remember how proud Mom was of him.

Dad's life changed in major way in 1962 when he "found Jesus;" thanks to my church-going mother. Mom had worked on Dad for years to go to church with us, but he always said he would go when he was ready. Until that point, Dad smoked a couple packs of Winstons or Marlboros every day. I knew he was serious about being a Christian when he went to the cupboard, took down 6 cartons of smokes and threw them in the garbage can. From that day forward, Dad never lit another cigarette.

Going to a fundamentalist church was a two-edged sword for me. It was fear-driven, which conditioned people to see the worst of life first. That part of the experience I hated. The social side of church life was a good thing. There were lots of kind people around who were there to help when you need it. I had to find my own spiritual path. The Nazarene Church didn't cut it for me, but it worked for Dad and Mom. Their faith got them through lots of tough times, which is a good thing as I look back after a few years.

Dad loved to read his Bible and sing in church. Mom would shoot him the evil eye when he was singing too loudly and drowning out everyone else in the pew. Mom and Dad used to sing together often. Mom played the piano and Dad strummed his old guitar. I knew they were having a good time when I would catch them smiling at each other.

Dad always wanted to live where there was plenty of sunshine. For years, he talked about moving to Florida. We never moved to Florida but vacationed there twice when I was three and seven years old. I remember Dad saving money at the Morris Plan in Wheeling for our vacations. Each week he put away a few dollars that eventually added up to a little nest egg for our vacation.

Dad got his sunshine wish in 1970 when the family moved to Tucson, Arizona. He loved sitting on the back patio sipping his morning coffee, soaking up the morning sun, and looking at the snow atop Mount Lemmon 10,000 plus feet above the city.

Sylvania Electric shuttered its Wheeling plant in 1968. I was a junior in high school. Dad, along with the other 250 employees, lost their jobs. Dad knew for some time that "something was up" with the plant. A maintenance mechanic always knows when a company isn't investing in its equipment and machinery. Dad took odd jobs for two years in the Ohio Valley until the family followed me to Arizona in 1970. It was a good move for everyone. Dad got his sunshine. Mom got a new house. Dad got an even better job with a forklift repair company in Tucson. My sister and brother Diana and Doug got fresh starts in new schools.

Dad continued to work until 1987, when he retired. Mom had died the year before of pancreatic cancer. Dad needed a rest. It was very hard for him to watch Mom whither away. He was constantly by her side, but deep down inside he felt helpless. This was one thing he couldn't fix.

Since the early 1990s, Dad has lived in Tupelo, Mississippi, an unlikely place for a guitar-strumming mechanic from Benwood, West Virginia to take up residence. Actually, he followed Diana and her family there when David, Diana's husband, took a new job at Hancock Fabric, which is headquartered in Tupleo.

Dad re-married in 1992. He met his wife Geri Sheffield through a mutual church friend. Dad and Geri lead an active senior lifestyle. Dad continues to write his poetry, volunteers at the local library and tourism bureau, and chairs the local Lion's Club chapter in Tupelo. He likes to do "small things" that help people. I'm sure that includes fixing lots of things to make people happy.

Today is Dad's 82nd birthday. This is your day. Happy Birthday Dad. I love you. Thanks for the many small things you did throughout my life that have made a major difference. Thanks for giving me the tools to "fix" myself.