I’d like to share a memory about my dad that was kind of painful for many years, but now I see it as just a human moment that I can understand from a whole different perspective as an adult. The five of us – my mom and dad, brother and sister, and I were at the Kutztown Folk festival. I think I was about 5 years old. Being a folk festival, there were naturally a lot of vendors selling crafts, toys and food.

After a while, we came across a stand that had wooden puzzles and toys. There was a toy that was a simple wooden cutout of a bear that had two strings running thought the legs on each side. By pulling on the rings at the bottom of the strings, one side then the other, you could make the bear climb the ropes.

I toggled the bear up the rope to the top and let it slide back down to go again. After a couple times, I decided I needed to take it home. It was an impulsive toddler gotta have it moment, but I guess my eagerness tugged at my mom’s heartstrings as well as the bear’s strings and she didn’t want me to go away empty handed, so she told my dad they should get it.

Even back then, in the ’70’s, items at festivals like that were pretty pricy compared to your mass produced retail store items. Of course, I was too young to realize that, and we were struggling to get by in those days. My dad had been a milk tester for years, going to farms to test samples of milk for fat content and other things which helped the farmers maintain their herds, weeding out the low producers and breeding the best producers. The testing was becoming more automated as farmers updated their milking and storage equipment. He transitioned from milk testing to working at Bangor Hardware, where he worked for many years. My mom was doing social work for Penn State Extension. Neither jobs paid much and both were on their way out. My mom worked at blouse mills after that.

So, at this transitional time when money was scarce, there was this climbing bear that was putting my dad in a tough spot. He understandably was annoyed at the inflated prices. I don’t remember exactly what he said to the vendor or what my mom said to him, but he voiced his anger at the vendor and criticized them for price gouging or whatever they called it back then. My mom was, in turn, upset with my dad for “making a scene” and I felt guilty for having insisted on getting the silly toy. The moment was totally ruined and I didn’t even want it anymore, but there it was in my hand as we all piled in the car to head home. My mom managed to smooth things over after a while so that I was ok with hanging the climbing bear in my room which I shared with my brother. We both played with it.

I have to admit, I resented my dad over that incident for many years, being just a kid. But I always remembered when that memory surfaced, that he also was very thoughtful in making sure we had enough to eat, or were comfortable. He would always insists that one of us kids take the last piece of cake or pie or a bigger portion of meat. He’d help us in the kitchen making a snack and he’d make sure I got my allergy medicines, sometimes with a spoonful of honey, or a glass of Strawberry Quick stirred into my special allergen free milk. He was always a good provider, but I think that day at the folk festival haunted him. I know as an adult that he had anxiety as I have at times, and he must have felt terribly guilty about blowing up at the seller in front of me and my siblings.

To this day, I enjoy perusing the artist markets and craft vendors at festivals. I’ve acquired many unique items at festivals over the years, many of which I still have. I’ve got some cool stuff from Mayfair, Musikfest, and many other smaller festivals and events. No Walmart for me. Ha ha!

So guess what, Dad? We won. Your hard work and mom’s and both your sons’ over the years brought us out of poverty. No, we never had a lot of money, but we got ahead just enough and we always had each other and our love and God’s love. You were a good provider and a loving dad. Miss you every day.