Great women, great men, great parents

Mother's Day was several weeks ago, and then a week ago or so was Father's Day. They're great days when we can celebrate those who helped raise us. Being a parent is more than just having a baby. Matter of fact, it's a lot more. We have had several mother cats that would birth babies and end up killing them because they were either stupid or just poor mothers. One I remember would move her babies about every day. She would move them around in the shop and then move them outside on the ground. She would actually move them outside in the rain and then she would go in the shop out of the rain.

Just because you can birth a baby doesn't make one a mom. Or then just because one can sire a child doesn't make you a dad. I've known guys who had kids strung all over creation and they could care less. Not real father material.

For me real mothers and fathers raise the child up to be a responsible member of society. They are there when the baby is learning to walk and talk. They are there when the child goes to school for the first time. They are there at their baptism and dedication. They are there to help them grow from childhood into adulthood. They are there to see that they go to church. Maybe train them how to be respectful of their elders. There are times when one, and on rare occasions, both parents have to be gone for a multitude of reasons. Maybe service in the military. Maybe jobs that require travel. One-parent households are definitely not ideal. They can be done, and the adults raised in one-parent homes can excel, but it isn't ideal.

I was raised in a two-parent home. Mom and Dad were both getting along in years when Mick and I showed up. Dad was pushing 50 and Mom was pushing 40. They had already raised two girls, so my parents probably raised us like grandkids. As a matter of fact, I have nephews and nieces who are close to my age. Both my sisters helped raise us, and the way I've heard it is they spoiled us along the way.

But Mom and Dad were good parents. Probably darn good parents. Dad smoked until he had a heart attack, and Mom never did. Dad would occasionally drink half a beer and dump out the rest. Both of them loved their coffee and homemade cooking. Both of them were workers, but at the same time both of them knew how to have a good time. By a good time I don't mean hit the bars and drink and be stupid. A good time was going to Buck Night at the drive-in theater in Ogallala. We'd go eat at the little Dairy Queen and then to the movie. A good time was going to some creek and enjoying the day. It might be going to some lake and catching a mess of fish. It might be to drive to a relative's or friend's to visit.

They knew how to work as well. Dad always had two or three gardens. One where he grew the things such as corn and tomatoes and cucumbers. One where he grew just potatoes. And then one where he grew watermelons. I can't remember Dad ever growing cantaloupe. Mom and Dad and my sisters and later us boys hand-milked at least a dozen cows year 'round. Dad would work part time at a neighbors. They worked. Some would say they were lucky to have owned some land and raised cattle and had the life they did. But the thing is they worked and sacrificed and spent their life so that my sisters and brother and I would have a better life. Not in money and wealth, but in simply growing up to be good people.

Marge's parents were the same. Keith and Helen scraped out a living out in the middle of nowhere. But they raised one mighty fine boy and four super nice girls. They had enough to make ends meet, but there wasn't any extra. Most everyone Marge and I grew up around started out with nothing or very little and worked until they had something.

We also had good neighbors. A few might drink a little too much and might party more than Mom and Dad, but they were good people. Workers. They were Pledge of Allegiance, flag-saluting, elder-respecting, women-honoring Americans. Good people, but real short-tempered when you disrespected the flag or the elderly or a woman or you hurt a child. They'd come to a local football game when the temp was below freezing to support the team. Their word was set in concrete and didn't waver. Most of time where I grew up, the grandparents were a major influence on the children as they grew up.

Most everyone had a church. Now not everyone went to church, but they'd claim this or that church as their own. Church has a way of lifting the families up. Church will normally cause those who attend and even claim it as their church to swear less, to live cleaner lives, to lay aside some bad habits, to maybe help others more, to strengthen the family and on and on. I've noticed that those who attend church become a stronger and better family.

And as Marge and I and our boys left Nebraska and went to both Oklahoma and Kentucky and then Missouri, I noticed that those around us, our neighbors and friends, were pretty much just like us. Most went to church. Most had good family ties. Most had jobs and worked. Most were law-abiding members of society. Most of the families were two-parent homes. It's odd, but not really, that when we moved we hooked up with family church-going folk much like us. I guess we didn't really want to hook up with others who broke the law or drank too much or partied around.

If I was to offer advice to both the young and old today, the first thing I'd recommend is to find a good church and attend whenever the doors are open. Volunteer at the church when they do fundraisers like fish fries or chili feeds or junk sales or whatever. Get to know those who attend the church. Surround your family with good God-fearing, church-going folk. I won't guarantee the outcome, but I'll guarantee it will have a positive influence.