A Daddy's Girl?

I wasn’t a shoe-in for a Daddy’s girl. I was early, tiny with a powerful set of vocal cords and cute enough, but as I grew toward toddlerhood, Mom often dressed me in ruffles so all would know I was a daughter. There were no auditions for Daddy's princess with a bald head, buggy eyes and prominent ears. By the time I had a bouncy ponytail, expressive eyes and almost normal ears, my attitude, supported by those strong vocal cords, put me in the running instead for Daddy's little terror. When brother came along, it was too late to pretend to be a sweetie for MORE than my fair share of Daddy's attention. Then came little sister who took that coveted role instantly. She had hair and chubby cheeks that helped her out.

My tomboy self never felt unloved. Dad supported me into adulthood, teaching good lessons with his actions instead of words sometimes. He never understood my issues with old-fashioned arithmetic but he taught me to give change without using the 'cheat' key on the register. He probably wished he could have taught me to drive as easily as he helped me master riding a bicycle.

Perhaps I feel more like a Daddy's girl NOW as I maneuver through...middle-age. (Humor me here; only 'baby' brother gets away with calling me old). Dad's words and deeds still guide me.

*It doesn't cost you any more to keep a car filled than it does to put in $5 at a time.

*Keep your car serviced and it will service you.

*You have no business driving long distances after dark, young lady. (Yep, I still heard that as an oldster, especially if I had his grandson with me).

Undeniably I am my momma' s daughter the older I get but there are traits that brand me as one of Cal’s girls: a big grin, a prominent nose, some anal tendencies and a stubborn streak. Dad held varied jobs in my lifetime. Thankfully he was able to fulfill his dream of owning and operating several businesses, first in St. Louis then in Ripley County: Cal's Grocery and Station at the location of Bizzell's Grocery and later where Hartland Pit Stop was, and another at the Quick Stop location in Naylor. When I discovered I had that dream, too, he lived to see me bring it to reality. He was tickled that a hare-brained idea like KC's on the Current... to him it was a huge gamble… filled up the parking lot on Y highway in its early days.

Calvin Granville Pearson (1925-2003) was a man of sincere faith, strong service and family devotion, and he was Dad to Glenn, Phyllis and me.