Midlife Creative

My Dad woke up before the sun (4:30am sometimes). He read his Bible, wrote in his notebook, made his eggs or oatmeal, and did his paper route. .

Dad had already had a full morning before the rest of the family rolled out of bed. There were 7 of us kids. My youngest brother was born when I was 17, so there was 2-3 years between each of us.

My Dad was a teacher. Even though he is retired now, he still teaches us. That is who he is. He taught at Holy Redeemer Catholic School for 12 years. I liked how he always spoke respectfully about the nuns and the school even though he wasn’t Catholic. It helped me realize how important it is to respect and learn from many faith traditions.

He left that job to help a group of parents start a non-denominational Christian School. It was a big project; starting a school from nothing. It began with a handful of students grades 1-4 and then a grade was added each year. I was a part of the first 4th grade class. It was a one room school house of sorts at the beginning. There were multiple grades sharing the same teacher. He taught there for the rest of his career. The school had very humble beginnings. Dad was one of the people who made a lot of sacrifices to keep it going.

One thing that stands out in my mind is how Dad stayed after school to help kids who needed extra help. It was always the same kids. I’m sure it required a lot of patience, but Dad never seemed frustrated. He whistled a lot and had a strong faith that sustained him.

Dad’s specialty was science and I always knew he was in awe of nature. I remember him listening to a certain cassette tape while we washed dishes after supper. It was a man explaining how small humans are in relation to the galaxies in the universe. He loved that tape.

We would often go hiking at Camden State Park and Dad would a stop and point out different plants, trees, and mushrooms along the path. He also loved showing us how to classify leaves each fall.

My Dad valued my mom and always put her first. They were opposites in many ways, but a good match.
When I was young, my parents did foster care for adults with disabilities. Then, for a season, Grandma Shirley moved in with them and then my Uncle Gary. They cared for many people in need. More than I even know about.

I am so happy to have been born an Oglesby.
Thanks Dad for all the sacrifices you have made, both known and unknown. I love you.