Daddy's Girl

This was written by my sister, who shares the same values as I do as instilled by our Daddy.

Recently a (now-former) friend on Facebook berated me for criticizing Trump’s efforts to eliminate the payroll taxes that provide 90% of the funding for Social Security and Medicare. She chose to make her attacks personal by saying, “Your daddy was so smart. What happened? I loved him, but you are nothing like him. He had some sense.” The implication being, of course, that my father would be appalled by my position and that I was being disrespectful to his memory by my words and actions. This essay was written as a way to channel my anger and keep from responding with equally hateful language back to her. It was not meant for anyone but me to read, but after letting a couple of close family members read it, I decided to allow it to be published on this blog in case it is beneficial to someone else. Note that it was never intended to be a “warts and all” complete picture of my father, so I apologize if it appears to paint him as “perfect.” Rather the purpose is to list some of the things I learned from him growing up and explain why I am convinced he would not support the current administration.

Daddy’s Girl

My father was a Baptist minister who never put on airs and had a down-to-earth folksy manner that tended to put people at ease. This isn’t the first time someone has told me how my father (who died almost 20 years ago) would have responded to some current issue. It’s also not the first time they would have been totally wrong. You see, unlike them, I knew his heart. Allow me to tell you about my Daddy.

Daddy was raised in rural NC during the Great Depression. He never forgot those years and they influenced his thinking on money for the rest of his life. No matter how much or how little he had, he always tithed to the church, helped those who were in need, and found a way to save some. (I never mastered that last part as well as he would have liked). We didn’t have a lot of “extras” growing up, but we had what we needed. I saw him knocked down by life several times but he didn’t complain, he just picked up and started to rebuild.

My grandfather couldn’t afford to send Daddy to college, so Daddy worked his way through Mars Hill Junior College and eventually finished his B.A. at Wake Forest College, coming home on weekends to pastor as many as 4 tiny churches at one time. From these two schools he learned the value of education and critical thinking. I knew from early childhood that I was expected to study hard and eventually go to college. He never tried to tell me what to study, but always to do my best in whatever I did.

The combination of his early life and college experiences helped shape the man he became. Daddy valued the worth of people regardless of the color of their skin or their social standing. The first time I ate at the same table with a black person was in the late 1960’s. A black man in our community was helping Daddy do some work on our new house. When lunchtime came, the man pulled out a sandwich to eat on the porch. Daddy invited him to come in and eat with us at the kitchen bar. The man was reluctant, obviously having been well-taught his “place,” but Daddy was insistent. It was clear to me that to Daddy it wasn’t even a question. The man joined us, put his sandwich away, and ate whatever Mama had fixed for our lunch. While we never discussed it, this encounter had a profound influence on me as I navigated those years of change in our community and our country.

In many ways my parents had a traditional marriage with Daddy the wage earner and Mama staying home with the children. This tended to make Mama the disciplinarian and Daddy the “fun” parent who would help me sneak peaks at wrapped presents under the tree or take my puppy to ride in an old baby carriage. Don’t get me wrong, Daddy could be stern and could make me cringe just by talking to me when I had done something wrong, but he also loved to laugh and wasn’t afraid to laugh at himself. In his later years as he battled severe health issues, he used humor as a coping mechanism, something I relied on during my own bout with breast cancer the year after his death.

Daddy never told me I couldn’t do something because I was female. (Mama did, but not Daddy!) I watched him in churches he served, supporting the women in leadership roles. In churches that prided themselves on having a “Men’s Day” when laymen lead the service, Daddy also pushed for “Women’s Day” if they didn’t already have one. He encouraged Mama to complete a certificate course of study through the seminary even though it took several years of periodic night classes to do it. Once when our family was visiting in a local church, the pastor called all the men of the church to come down front to pray before the service. Daddy and my husband were the only two who didn’t go. My sister said to me in a stage whisper, “What’s the matter? Can’t women pray?” If you grew in the house with my Daddy you knew the answer to that was, “YES!”

Daddy could be “stubborn as a mule,” a trait I definitely inherited. In spite of this, he wasn’t afraid to reexamine his beliefs or opinions. Even as a teenager I could talk to him and debate issues. He would listen to my ideas and even occasionally change his mind (and even more rarely I would even change mine!).

Daddy was an observer of people. He liked to sit and watch people go by as he waited for Mama to shop. Sometimes he would pray, “Lord, if there’s somebody you want me to speak to today, show me who it is.” There were numerous stories of strangers he met this way who poured out their stories to him. Many times, what they needed most was just to know that somebody listened to them and cared.

Maybe because he listened and observed people, Daddy was generally a keen judge of character. He could see through politicians and religious leaders who claimed to be following God but were far from the teachings of Jesus. Jim Baker of PTL infamy was a prime example. He got upset with preachers who claimed to be able to explain all the symbolism in Revelation and talk about “the end times” while ignoring Jesus’ teachings to love and care for our neighbors. He also lamented the fundamentalist takeover of the Southern Baptist Convention and how the leaders were concerned about personal power and seeking a religious “purity test” not showing God’s love. (His term for them was “rank fundamentalists.”) I believe he would see Franklin Graham and the religious right in this same light today and for the same reasons.

As for Donald Trump and his policies? Trump doesn’t listen to other people, refuses to take responsibility for his actions or even admit that he makes mistakes, and only looks at what he can get out of a situation. His motivations are money and personal praise. He has no empathy for others and makes nasty derogatory comments about those who dare to disagree with him. He only uses religion to gain votes and has no moral compass. He lies as easily as he breathes. I can’t think of anyone further from someone my Daddy would respect or admire. Oh, and Trump has NO sense of humor. He never laughs unless he’s making fun of someone. Anyone who knew my Daddy even casually would know, “NO, he would NOT approve of this person!”

So, dear ex-friend, chalk this up to yet another way you don’t have a clue!

Mary Hutchinson Troutman

8-15-2020