Family history stories for 2014 - My dad
On the first Sunday of 2014, I sat listening to my church leaders share goals for our congregation. I am so not a New Years Resolution fan. Its not that there is anything wrong with them, I just feel like I have set myself up for failure too many times. So I was feeling a little negative about it...
My dad once told me how he started
playing football. When he was a young boy, he begged and begged his mom to let
him join the football team. It was expensive – you had to purchase your own
equipment and new cleats. She finally agreed and bought him the gear he needed
– with the expensive, new cleats. My dad
was so excited to play, but quickly lost his enthusiasm after realizing how
much running was involved with football. He wanted to quit. It was too hard.
But his mom, after spending all the money to let him play, refused to let him.
He was forced to continue playing. And as time went on, he got used to the
running and became a solid player. He was such a good player, that 20 years
later his former coach remembered calling him “the Cat” for his running speed.
This was the story he would tell us, to
encourage us to continue on when things got tough.
However, I was surprised and excited to hear one of the goals for the year. We were asked to start a record of family stories - to write down one story for each ancestor back to our great grandparents, which would be about 15 stories (because you include yourself).
I love family stories - ever since I was five and my Grandma Cleaver would tell me about her childhood in Kansas as she did dishes or yard work. I have heard many stories from both sets of grandparents, but never written them down.
Its now April. I still hadn't written any down until this week. My boys inspired me - at bedtime they wanted to here a story about their Grandpa. I told them all about him playing football and baseball. After they fell asleep, I went to my room and started typing. Here is a little of what I told them.
(Dad - Sorry if I got any of this wrong. Its been awhile since I heard it from you).
Paul D. Cleaver - my Dad
My dad was born and raised in
Washington state, just like me. We even went to the same high school – North Kitsap
High School. Most of my teachers had taught at least one Cleaver before they
met me.
During my senior year, I had to take a
weight lifting class from one of the most intimidating teachers at our school.
He was the former football coach, and remembered my dad. Luckily, he liked my
dad, so I had nothing to fear from him. He remembered calling him the Cat,
because he ran so fast. The rest of the quarter, I was able to enjoy the class
without worry of his criticism – unlike many of my classmates.
My dad once told me how he started
playing football. When he was a young boy, he begged and begged his mom to let
him join the football team. It was expensive – you had to purchase your own
equipment and new cleats. She finally agreed and bought him the gear he needed
– with the expensive, new cleats. My dad
was so excited to play, but quickly lost his enthusiasm after realizing how
much running was involved with football. He wanted to quit. It was too hard.
But his mom, after spending all the money to let him play, refused to let him.
He was forced to continue playing. And as time went on, he got used to the
running and became a solid player. He was such a good player, that 20 years
later his former coach remembered calling him “the Cat” for his running speed.
(PS - Dad, I also told Soren and Lucas about the baseball almost knocking all you teeth out. But I was pretty shaky on details for that one. You will have to tell it to us when you come visit. ALSO, you should send me some of your old football pictures, so I can replace the ones here with them).
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