A Day to Remember My Dad...
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My dad in Korea, 1952.
Today marks the 10th anniversary of the day my dad was laid to rest at Arlington National Cemetary. Dad was a veteran of the Korean War. Only six months after he married Mom, he was called to serve his country.
Not only was he a defender of liberty, but he was a very creative man as well. He was always trying something new. He could look at a picture in a book and then would set to drawing his version out on paper, complete with measurements and a list of what he would need. He could draw anything simply by just looking at it - without using a grid. He was the ultimate DIY guy of his day - all without a computer or the internet! As a tribute to my dad, Robert John Schweitzer (or "Bob" to all who knew and loved him), I want to share with you the following essay. I love and miss you Dad.
A final salute for PFC Robert J. Schweitzer at Arlington National Cemetery, February 21, 2003
What’s an Afghan?
By Bonnie Barker
The other day I was visiting with a young friend and his mom and the word afghan came up in conversation. “What’s an afghan?” this young boy queried. We quickly answered with something like, “a fancy word for a blanket,” and moved on along in our conversation, getting back to our main discussion that had nothing to do with his question.
This morning as this stray thought once again entered my mind, I am transported back to a different time and place as I recall my first discovery of this marvelous word. About the time when I was a 7 year-old girl, my neighbor taught me a couple of crochet stitches. It was then that I discovered the yarn department at the G.C. Murphy & Co. Store in Hialeah, FL. I had been in that store numerous times, usually on a Friday evening because that’s just what we did as a family on Fridays. This store had one of the last true soda fountains where you could get the most wonderful cherry coke served up by friendly waitresses that walked back and forth serving folks sitting at the long counter. You could watch everything they created – and to a child like me, this was amazing! I have many a fond memories sipping a coke sitting next to my dad, as I spun around and around on the circular post seats.
Now as I mentioned above, G.C. Murphy had a yarn aisle. Some stores today have some yarn as a token representative to their craft section, but this was different – gloriously different and spoke of a time when more people crocheted and knitted on a regular basis. We didn’t have computers and other electronic devices to “save time” for us, thus we had time for the home arts.
Back then it was popular to buy afghan kits. Usually all the yarn and even the proper size hook would be included in the package. The yarn was never in handy pull-skeins. Oh no. It came in a long mass of yarn wrapped around a piece of cardboard about a yard long and had to be wound carefully into balls, usually requiring a second pair of hands, just like out of a Norman Rockwell painting.
I remember my first afghan I made this way. It was a multi-colored blue ripple afghan kit that had eight shades of blue 2-ply yarn, the blues ranging from very dark to very light. I don’t know who was amazed more when this project was finished, my mom or me! It didn’t really matter that it wasn’t perfect, but that it was completed and I did it! Soon after I did the next logical thing. As soon as I could scrape the necessary funds together, I bought another one. This time I picked out the more popular one of the day – you might remember – the one with browns, yellows and oranges in it in a gradual order from dark to light. I actually followed the directions this time and it ended up looking almost like the picture on the box! I was elated.
Fast-forward about 35 years. Now this same afghan rests on my mom’s recliner that she occupies a lot these days in her in-law suite that’s attached to our home. It still has a small hole in it at one end. Mom doesn’t want me to fix the hole. It reminds her of when Dad accidentally poked his toe through it a number of years ago. This afghan would accompany my dad to his last hospital visit, perhaps as a small reminder of the comforts of home.
My dad has been with the Lord a number of years now, yet we have many reminders of his life in our home, not the least of which is a well-worn afghan with an un-repaired hole. Now that I think of it, perhaps that old afghan is much more than a blanket, and just maybe the word “afghan” is much more than a fancy word….
