My two dads

     Of course, I only had one father, but I had two dads in my life. My father and first dad was Ralph Nathaniel Inmon. The few pictures I have of both of us are old, of course, because he died on Halloween, 1965. I was five years old. Because I was so young when he died, I never really knew him. Instead, most everything I know about him came second hand from my family and his friends. For the longest time, his death weighed so heavily on my young psyche that I blocked out almost all memories of him. Over time, that has eased.
     He was a logger and a farmer. That means that he worked and worked. The one thing I heard from everyone is what an incredible worker he was. I have a few memories of waiting out on our back porch for him to get home from his first job. He would sit on the steps of the back porch and let me "help" him take his cork boots off. Then, after having already worked a ten hour day, he would head out to the fields or the barn. We had a lot of acreage and there was always a lot to be done. 
     Because I was so little, I usually had to stay behind when he went to work on the farm, but sometimes he would take me along. I remember him as a laconic man, but when it was just the two of us he softly sang "Cool Water" by the Sons of the Pioneers while he worked.
    The truth is, he essentially worked himself to death. He died a much older man than his 47 years.      A few years later, my mom remarried. I was pretty resentful. In my heart, I knew that my Dad was gone, and there could never be another person to take his place. I couldn't understand why, if I understood that, Mom didn't. Their marriage was rocky. They both drank too much, fought too much and failed to see eye to eye on too many things to ever really be happy. Mom was a "New Age" kind of woman who loved to read  was always looking for solutions in the stars. My step-Dad, who I finally got around to calling "Dad" when I was about 12, was a very practical man. If you couldn't touch it, he didn't really think it existed.
     Despite their rocky marriage, which did calm down over the years, this Dad helped keep a roof over my head and made sure I had enough to eat. I just don't think he knew what to do with me - a bookish, brainy boy that didn't have any interest in learning how to work on cars or hang out with him in the shed.To be fair, though, I'm not sure my father would have had any more of an idea.
     Eventually, my step-dad and I made peace with each other. Occasionally I even wandered outside to help him with his various projects as evidenced by the picture above. He passed away as well, five years ago. He had smoked and chewed tobacco his whole life and that eventually killed him.
     I've been a dad myself now for twenty six years. When I was a kid I had no idea that my parents were basically making things up as they go along. I'm completely aware of that now, because I've been doing it myself for two and a half decades.
     Happy Fathers Day to both my two dads. My father haunts my dreams 47 years after he died. And, I came to respect the wisdom and practicality of my second dad. There are many times that I would love to be able to call him up or sit down with him if I had the chance.