Showing posts with label Rodney Gillispie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rodney Gillispie. Show all posts

Friday, March 3, 2017

Remembering my dad


HAPPY BIRTHDAY 🎂 to my dad, Rodney Gillispie, born March 3, 1917. Yes, he would have been 109 today, if he'd lived.

 He passed in March of 2003, around the 11th (not sure of the exact date). He had just turned 86.

 Two of my favorite memories of him happened when I was 12. We went out in the front yard and threw a softball around for about 20 minutes; it was the only time we ever played catch.

 Then we attended a county fair on a hill near us. We rode the Ferris wheel (I hated it; he didn't look thrilled), and I saw a camel for the first time. We also talked to a not-so-famed singer we'd watched on a West Virginia TV station. I'm sure we did other things, but those are the things that stand out.

 It's funny, but one of my favorite memories of him came the day he asked me to drive him to the nursing home. First, we sang at least one of his favorite songs ("The Wabash Cannonball") on the way there. When we got in the neighborhood of the place, I realized I was low on gas. I stopped at the gas station, got out and started pumping.

 Suddenly, the truck started rocking back and forth, and I wondered for a second if we were having an earthquake. Then I looked into the back window of the truck and realized it was my dad. I'd had to force him to wear a seat belt (it's the law), and he didn't know how to get out of it! Afraid he'd use his knife on it, I ran around, opened his door and got him out safely (with an intact seat belt).

 That was a good day and a bad day; I didn't want him to go into the place.

 P.S.: I know you are wondering about the knife. My dad would cut the child-proof lids off pill bottles when he couldn't open them. I was afraid he'd do the same to my seat belt. Fortunately, he didn't get the chance.

🎂 🎂 🎂

EMAIL: tgilli52@gmail.com  BLUESKY: PROFILE



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Tuesday, November 10, 2009

One veteran

Rodney Gillispie had a big smile and a usually sunny temperament. He'd tell the same stories over and over, and you'd hear about Pete Richmond (not sure about spelling), the little giant of a man, and the many people he worked with over most of the 20th century in Bath County, Va.

 Often, he'd tell about his service during World War II and just afterward (he rejoined the U.S. Army for a few months after the war). He had quit school at age 16 in the fifth grade — apparently his teachers could move him along that far — so he had few talents to bring to the Army. He was a strong, hard-working laborer, and they made him a guard.

 He was in London, and he talked about Paris, but he never saw much of England or France. He spent his time close to his work, which was pretty simple. Guard prisoners and look out for Nazis.

 He had only one story about actual battle. He'd dug one of the many foxholes during his term overseas, and the Nazis were shooting machine guns. He was sweating bullets in his foxhole as the Germans' ammo sizzled overhead, hit something and dropped into the hole beside him.

 He talked about the boat ride to England. The ship swayed to and fro, and, yes, he had trouble keeping his lunch down all the way.

 Rodney actually ran into one of his brothers overseas — they were in different divisions — and they spent a few hours together.

 His favorite memory of war came when they were having a singing contest. He had a strong, clear voice and loved to sing; he was quick to break into song, any time, any place. He sang the "Wabash Cannonball" and a couple of other songs for the soldiers and civilians. Just when he was pulling out with his group, he received a gift from the French woman who had put on the contest.

 It was a box of fruit, sweeter than normal because it was earned with his voice. Many years later, he'd tell anyone who'd listen about the basket of fruit, and he'd happily break into the "Wabash Cannonball."

 He'd also show off his medals, including a Purple Heart, and his son still has them.

 He's remembered and missed every day, of course, but the memories of World War II resonate like his singing voice on Memorial Day and Veterans Day.

 Happy Veterans Day, Dad.

And, on March 3, happy birthday, Dad.

><

EMAIL: tgilli52@gmail.com  BLUESKY: PROFILE



BLOG ENTRIES FROM THE AUTO RACING JOURNAL
(a book of great stories about the Intimidator)
(the book of great NASCAR stories)
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