Father's Day - Jake Montgomery

One of my early memories is making the conscious decision to stop calling my mother "Mommy".  I must have been about 9 or 10 and that word just sounded too much like what a little girl would say and not what the sophisticated pre-teen that I thought I was becoming would use.  From that time on I called her "Moma", which is very normal in the south.

Yet here I am at age 66 still referring to my Daddy!  And yes, I do get some strange looks from non-Southern friends who aren't used to an adult woman calling her father by that name.  Even after all these years away from the South, another name for him just never fit.  You've probably heard the expression, "Anyone can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a Daddy".  Well, my Daddy was special.

Jake Montgomery was gentle, soft spoken and kind.  I only remember one time when he got mad at me.  I had gotten a ride home from a junior high football game with my friend's older brother.  My parents expected me to come home immediately after the game but instead we drove to the neighboring town to drop off the brother's girlfriend so it was probably 10:30 or 11:00 before we got home.  I was 12 or 13 years old and the junior high games were on Thursdays so it was a school night.   As we turned the corner and my house came into view, I could see my Daddy standing on the porch with his arms folded across his chest.  I knew that he was not happy!  I don't remember exactly what happened but I know that he let me know that he and my mother were worried.  They didn't know where I was and that scared them.  I don't think I got in trouble but I didn't like the feeling that I had caused them to worry.  That's a good example of the way I was raised.

My Daddy loved dogs and children - and they loved him back.  The children who lived next door would come over and ask my mother if Daddy could come out to play.  They loved to follow him around when he worked in the yard or garden.  He was always patient and answered their questions.

Mary was only 10 months old when he died.  During her fussy times, Daddy could always calm her down.  He would put her on a pillow and then walk around the house talking to her. Daddy could get her to sleep better than anyone. I am so sad that he didn't get to spend more time with her or meet his grandsons.

This is the only photo I have of Daddy with Mary.  Mary was born in July.  Moma and Daddy came to visit in Colorado in September.  We went to Arkansas at Christmas time and then Mary and I went back in April when we learned about his cancer.  He died in May.  I can't explain why we didn't take more photos but I am sure glad to have this one, especially since it is a 4 generation photo - Mary, me, my Daddy and his mother, my Grandma Maudie Finch in December 1978.  

Dogs also adored him.  Our dog Tony thought that Daddy was the best person in the whole world.  Each evening, Daddy would walk around the block and hand feed Tony.  My mother said that the only time she really saw him mad was when Tony was accidentally shot with a BB gun.  Luckily he wasn't seriously hurt but Daddy was mad because it COULD have been tragic.

When we moved to California and couldn't take our dog Arthur with us, Daddy and Moma graciously took him into their home.  I'm not sure if Tony was as thrilled with his 'brother' but they made it work. The two dogs vied for the chance to be closest to Daddy!

My mother had this photo hanging in her home until the day she died.  I can see why she loved it so.  And you can tell that this man was a 'Daddy'!