Good Things I Remember About my Dad

From my earliest memories as a very young child, I have always felt loved and protected by both our parents. Dad's role was always "the provider." He loved his family more than anything else and was very proud of all our accomplishments and achievements in life.

He loved the earth and spent his career nurturing and preserving the natural resources with which we have been blessed. I believe this instilled in me an appreciation for geology and gardening. Dad knew I loved beautiful things and would bring home rock and mineral specimens for me when we lived in Arizona. I still have many of those pieces in our garden in Tennessee. To this day, there are few things I enjoy more than growing food in our backyard.

When we lived in Stilwell, Oklahoma, Dad brought home a pickup truck bed full of personal watermelons from the experimental agricultural farm. I think the load cost him five dollars. Donna and I probably enjoyed that five dollars' worth of watermelons more than anything money could buy. We honestly thought we had died and gone to Heaven when he told us we could eat as many as much as we wanted.

Dad also loved home-cooked meals. He often told our mom that she was the best cook in the world. I don't remember a meal she cooked that he failed to compliment. We also had our evening meals together as a family. I have fond memories of our discussions of the day's events while we enjoyed our dinners together. (And, yes, our mom cooked some very tasty meals for us, even though she really never enjoyed cooking.)

We moved a lot while we were growing up. The first two things Dad would do when we relocated would be to get new license plates for the car and find a church for us to join. I remember, as an elementary school-aged girl, attending church and keeping myself quietly occupied sitting next to Dad and putting coins from my dad's pocket inside the church bulletin and rubbing a pencil over quarters and dimes and nickels and pennies. If one of the pages of the bulletin had a lot of blank space, I could make a "rubbing" from the cover of his Bible, which was an embossed image of Jesus knocking at the door. 

Since Dad stood 6'4", we could not share a hymnal to sing the hymns during the worship service. Therefore, Dad taught us both very early to find the page number in the bulletin and to locate the hymn in the hymnal in plenty of time to sing. He encouraged us to get our own bulletins and read the entire bulletin. To this day, I read everything in our church bulletin, find the pages early in the hymnal, and often do the children's maze and word find as well.

Much of Dad's spare time was spent with his amateur radio hobby. I remember hearing the "dots and dashes" of Morse code and finding the beautiful sparkling drips of silver on the floor of his garage workshop from his soldering gun. I loved to collect those drips after they cooled. Dad was always willing to share his love of amateur radio with anyone who would listen. He often gave guest lectures to our classes in school about amateur radio. He loved talking with people all over the world and would exchange post cards with them after their radio communications.

Dad was very much a believer in the equality of all. He never understood how anyone could judge another based on race, religion, gender, or beliefs. I always admired that.

Dad's love for family extended to our husbands and children as well. We were always welcomed with open arms, and nothing made Dad happier than to have us all in his home. He especially loved babies. He was so happy to spend time with his great grandchildren, Nate, Carter, and Cullen. Not only did he love the babies and children, he also had a special bond with the pets. He nearly always had a cat or a dog on the bed beside him, and he loved to give treats to our dog when we visited.

Sundays were special days in our family. Mom put a roast and potatoes and carrots in the oven before church, we would go to church, then come home and share our big meal together. Later, in the evening, we would have sandwiches and play games -- Monopoly, cards, Carom. Dad would usually make a big bowl of popcorn for us to enjoy while we played our family games. It was my favorite day of the week because of our activities.

As noted, we lived in many different places, and often we lived where either a Native American language or Spanish was widely spoken. Dad always tried to learn as many words as he could of other languages. Though his mastery never came, he did carry a few phrases with him. At his funeral, a friend of his I had never met introduced himself to me and told me he remembered Dad had a favorite saying he shared with him: "Como frijole, Coca-cola?" (How you bean, Pops?). 

I was blessed to share 58 years as the daughter of Stanley Clemmons. He always believed in us and made sure we knew that we could do anything we wanted to do in life. He was supportive and a very proud Papa.

On Valentine's Day of 2014, he suffered a stroke, which left him with speech and mobility impairments and some further loss of vision. After he was transferred to a rehabilitation facility, I went to Texas to help him and Mom with his recovery. I was incredibly impressed by his determination to do everything he needed to do in order to recover as fully as possible. I know he was very frustrated, but he worked so hard with therapists and made unbelievable progress. 

The last words I said to my dad when I left Texas were "Keep up the good work. I love you, and I'm so proud of you."

Just before he was to be discharged home from rehab, Dad suffered a massive heart attack. Mom promised him long ago she would not send him to a nursing home, and he very much wanted to go home. He was discharged with Hospice care, and Mom and Donna were by his side when he left this world, no longer to suffer pain. I am eternally grateful to Mom, Donna, and Hospice and forever proud of Dad for his efforts to do everything in his power to regain what that stroke took away. 

Rest in peace, Dad. I love you, and I'm so proud of you.

As the youngest of his grandchildren, most of my grown life overlapped with the years Stanley Clemmons's deteriorating health.  For nearly as long as I can remember, the man I only ever knew as Papa suffered from health problems which limited things like his energy and mobility.  Sadly, this denied me the opportunity to know Papa as well as other members of the family.  But it has not denied me memories, and my memory of Papa will always be this:  The man coming down the hallway, slowly, with great effort and risk  and physical discomfort - not for food or drink, but rather to sit in the living room of his home with his grandson, to ask him what he's studying in school and pass along some things that he'd learned.

My dad named me  when I was born, and I always felt we had a special connection.  I considered myself "Daddy's little girl."  I even felt I inherited many of his habits.  I would tell people, "I'm just like him."

As a little girl, I remember feeling so secure in my dad's arms.  I would sit next to him at church, and he would put his arm around me and make me feel so warm and happy.  It remains to be my most cherished time with my dad.  Sundays were also special because we would get a special treat from dad.  After supper, dad would fix popcorn.  That's the only time he ever did any cooking.

Dad also taught me how to play cards (he wasn't allowed to play cards growing up becuase his parents were against it).  However, we used cards as a learning tool.  We played our version of rummy, and I had to add or subtract scores depending on if I won or lost.  I loved those games with my dad, and I think it's why I always loved math in school.  It just seemed to come naturally to me because he taught me strategies to use with adding and subtracting.

Dad had a lot of science background.  I don't think I ever enjoyed science like he did, but it was a part of our life growing up.  So, I think it helped me a lot in school.  I seemed to know a lot more about rocks and minerals than most of my classmates.  I had to do a science fair project in high school, and he had one of his friends help me do my research at the college lab.  I know it was a bit over my head, but I know it made my dad very happy that he could help me.

As an adult, Dad would tell me how much he loved his family and how proud he was of us.  He said he was very lucky to have such wonderful children - we were equally lucky to have such a loving and caring dad.  Dad's grandchildren and great-grandchildren were the joy of his life.  He loved to hear about their triumphs.  Whenever Carter and Cullen came over, his face would light up, and he was just so happy.

Dad will be missed, but he is in a better place free of pain.  I think about the times people say a smell reminds them of a loved one, but my memories of him are triggered by dental floss and handerkerchiefs.  He always carried a handkerchief, and the minute he finished eating, he would tell Mom what a wonderful meal she had prepared and head to the bathroom to floss and brush his teeth.

Good morning to all,
There is always heartache when we lose a family member.  To Uncle Stanley's immediate family, their closeness will have the greatest sorrow.  for Aunt Ann and her family  I extend my best to them and will have them in my prayers.
To Richard, I thank you for leading the charge in letting the rest of us know about Uncle Stanley.  For all  of you kinfolks it is good to have contact with you.
For the record all of Lowell and Frances' children have a family name.  Philip (Uncle Philip), Terry Dean (Uncle Stanley), Linda Marc (Pop, Marcus O.), Jane Robert (Robert Blair, Frances' dad), Hank (Lowell Henry, Jr.)

A short note on Uncle Stanley.  One of my most vivid stories was when I was a little guy and Stanley was living with or staying with us and he came home with a huge MOTORCYCLE.  I was young but I remember his brother, Lowell, who was a doctor, telling Stanley he would get killed on that thing or worse he may never get married!  They went round and round several times but Stanley kept the motorcycle and found a wonderul lady to marry named Ann.

Judy and I have been gone and did not know about Stanley until now.
Thanks to all for sharing.

Terry

P. S. I never got to ride the motorcycle.

To the Family of Mr. Clemmons,

I did not know Mr. Clemmons, however I did want to extend a word of kindness to the family.

Zechariah 2:8 reminds us that God feels for us when we are suffer,. He cares and we are able give him our burdens to help assist us through such trying times.

May the peace of God be with you.

Dear Mrs. Clemmons and family, I wish to extend my condolences to all of you. Cindy is a sewing buddy and she is a wonderful person. May God be with you in the days to come and hold you in his comforting hands. With Christian love, Leota Bennett

Cindy, all of us at WRPC, and especially your fellow Stephen Ministers, are mourning with you as you grieve the death of your father. May God's divine presence comfort you and your family during all the days of your grief.

OBITUARIO

Stanley Dean Clemmons

12 noviembre, 1929 – 10 abril, 2014

Rosewood Funeral Chapel

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