Memories of My Father

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, my Dad left the tobacco fields of North Carolina to pursue a new life in the city. Unsure of what awaited him in the future, he eventually landed in Baltimore. The young country boy was like a fish out of water but he quickly adapted to his new surroundings.

Before long , he met a young lady from Locust Point who would ultimately turn out to be his life-long soul mate.

In search of a career path, my Dad found a liking for carpentry. He landed a job with a local builder and soon discovered that he had a natural gift for the trade. He quickly progressed and before long, he could transform a pile of lumber into a work of art.

Dad started taking me along on side jobs when I was about 11-12 years old. Although I didn't inherit his natural skills, he tried his best to teach me. When I turned 16, he got me a summer job at his company. As we rode to work together, he would talk to me about the day's project like a coach preparing a player for a big game.

My father was a bit of a perfectionist when it came to his work. I can remember this one time, I was installing the base molding in a room. As I finished trimming out one of the closets, Dad came into the room to critique my work. He quickly pointed out that I had left a small gap between two pieces of molding. I tried to explain that it was inside of a closet and no one would even notice it. When that didn't work, I attempted to enlighten him to the benefits of caulk. He abruptly informed me that he wasn't going to tolerate this kind of work. He explained that there's a right way to do things and there's wrong way. He then made me rip out the molding and re-do it the right way. He drilled this mentality into me every chance that he got. At the time, I thought he was being hard and unreasonable. But years later, I realized that he was attempting to teach me a lesson in pride and accountability.

Dad also believed that a man's word was his bond. If you looked someone in the eye and told them you were going to do something, you did it. This is something he instilled in me from an early age. He also taught me that it's ok to make mistakes. Just be sure to own up and take responsibility for them.

When it came to music, my father liked the old-school country guys like Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard and the Statler Brothers. I remember introducing him to the song "Country Roads" by John Denver. He really liked the song but he had a problem with John Denver's "long hair". He explained that the song would sound so much better if the singer would get a hair cut.....If you think that's funny, you should have seen the look on his face the first time he saw one of my Ted Nugent albums.

My father really enjoyed going to flea markets and yard sales. As a kid, I would often tag along with him. I was always impressed with his ability to wheel and deal with the different vendors. I would stand quietly and watch him work his magic. He tried to teach me that everything is negotiable. Well, one day, I venture into a 7-11 to buy a Slurpee and a candy bar. The cashier rings up my items and tells me that it's gonna be $1.49. Instinctively, I rub my chin and respond, "I'll tell you what. Make it an even dollar and we've got a deal!".........Yep, I'm a chip off the ol' block.

Through recent years, my Dad spent a lot of time repairing lawn mowers. On any given day, you could find him in his back yard breathing new life into old gas-powered engines. At the first hint of spring, people would come out of the woodwork to visit Brooklyn's famous Lawnmower man. I can remember this one time I stopped by to visit my parents. My Dad wasn't home at the time. Well, there was a knock at the front door and I went to answer it.  I was greeted by two men who said that they were here to see the "lawnmower man". It reminded me of that scene where Dorothy and the gang arrive in Oz and ask to see the Wizard.

Anyway, I explained that he wasn't home. They asked if I was his son. I told them that I was. The next thing I know, these guys are shaking my hand and telling me all about the famous Lawnmower Man. It turns out that my Dad was Brooklyn's biggest celebrity since the $99 Dollar Down Man.

Last week, I stopped by my parent's house to cut the grass. The garage was loaded with about a dozen "project" lawnmowers. Making my way through the garage, I tried to start each one with no luck. I asked Marshall, a family friend who lives across the street, if he knew where my father kept his good lawnmower. He told me that my dad sold it to someone a couple of weeks ago......Really, Dad? You couldn't leave me with one working lawnmower??

So anyway, I wind up going to Sears and buying a new one. Here I was, the son of the legendary Lawnmower Man, paying the retail price for a new lawnmower. I felt like such a loser....

Like I eluded to earlier, my dad would always try to get the best possible price on anything. One of his weapons of choice in the war of frugality was the coupon. He would spend Sunday morning clipping all of the coupons out of the Sunday newspaper. It wasn't uncommon for him to stop by five different grocery stores in one day just so he could use every one of them. With a gleam in his eye, he would sometimes show me the receipts just to gloat about how much money he saved. His ultimate goal was to, one day, have a grocery store actually pay him for shopping there.

And the ironic part of of all this is that my Dad would give away half of the things that he bought. He would always start by asking something like, "Hey Ken, do you like ice cream?" I would reply, "Of course. Who doesn't like ice cream?" He would then instruct me to go to his large freezer and pick out a carton. I'm not kidding you, I would open up the freezer and it would look like the inside of a Good Humor truck. I would ask why he bought so much. And whether it was ice cream, peanuts or laundry detergent, the answer was always the same.....because it was on sale and he had a coupon.

My dad was also quite the debater. If you've ever had an argument with him, you know that you couldn't possibly win. Years ago, I remember having a disagreement about our opinions on the best Major League baseball player. We went back and forth, arguing our views. As my Dad's blood reached a boiling point, I tried to settle him down by explaining that this is just my opinion. He told me that I was entitled to my opinion. But I was still wrong.

Since we're in Baltimore, we probably have a few Ravens fans here. Well, my Dad certainly wasn't one of them. If you ever wanted to get him fired up, all you had to do was mention how awesome the Ravens were. And you never, under any circumstances, wanted to utter the words "Ray Lewis" in front of him. This would usually result in him storming into the kitchen where he'd grab his canister full of news clippings. He had collected every negative news story that's ever been printed about the Raven's linebacker. He'd hand you each clipping and say, "Here, go ahead and read this and tell me what you think."

One time, I said, "Dad, this is an opinion piece." He replied, "It doesn't matter, it's the truth! They wouldn't print it if it wasn't true!" Like I said, you're not winning any arguments with him.

Through the years, Dad spent a lot of time with his best friend, John Cook. They could often be seen running local errands together or zipping through John's back yard in a golf cart. My father would often tell me about their adventures. He really enjoyed their time together. I spoke to John last week and I could tell that he was hurting. John, you should know that you made my very father happy and he loved you like a brother.

My Dad would often make his rounds visiting the kids and grand-kids. Always unannounced, you never knew when his white pick-up truck would show up in your driveway.  He would stay for a short conversation over a Pepsi and then he would get up and head to his next destination.

I have to tell about one time where one of his impromptu visits caught me totally off guard. I was hosting a Sunday football party at my house. Someone alerted me that my Dad was there. So, I walked down the driveway to greet him. As I got closer, his smile faded and his eyes fixated on my torso. Trying to figure out what was going on, I glanced down and quickly realized that I was wearing a Ray Lewis jersey. I honestly felt like crawling under a rock. I really caught an earful from him as we walked to my house. He eventually forgave me but I knew that I would be in for a barrage of newspaper clippings the next time I stopped by his house.

All of these things will now become a precious memories. We had so many good times and shared so many laughs together. The countless stories of my Dad will keep him alive in our hearts forever.

My father was so proud of all his children and grand-children. He really cherished the time that he got to spend with all of us. And we certainly felt the same way about him. Celebrating 54 years of marriage to my mom this year, my dad stuck by her side until the very end.

Success in life is measured by how may other lives you touch along the way. Ervin Wilson was indeed a successful man.

The tremendous outpouring of love and support during the past week has been overwhelming. People have told me heartfelt stories and shared the memories that they have of my father. It's comforting to know that he had an impact on so many people. Thanks so much to everyone for helping our family through this difficult time. It is appreciated more than you will ever know....

kw