Even Heaven Cries When A Good Man Dies. Daddy

My father was a good man and inspired to raise good offspring.  This story is from a time back in the 1970’s and having to do with rigged elections of county government.  My father taught us that if you wanted something bad enough, you worked hard for it.  It was not for sale.   If it  wasn’t yours, you do not touch it. Integrity.  The will of the  people was not being done. The people who had a tad more money bought votes.  They would stand near the post office which doubled as notary public and voting precinct and pass out money to people who could be bought.  My daddy worked for the county.  He graded the gravel roads of the day.  Especially the main drags thru the county.  When I was growing up there, old Highway 72 was dirt road.  It didn’t get graded  often and washed out on a real regular basis because the new highway 72 with asphalt lanes opened up and cut the highway bypassing the old one.  Hardly no one lived out to far down old highway 72.  My father told a slight fib to get a job with the county of road grader.  The supervisor asked if he had experience driving a grader.  Daddy said, Of course I do.  If it has wheels and a steering wheel, I can drive it.”  That part was true about the driving thing but he had never drove a road grader.  He did a good job after making holes and ditches in a few of the side roads but evidential got a lot better at it as time marched on.  The position of road supervisor was elected.  We lived about 1/4 of a mile down the down road from the post office on a dirt road and there was an election that year for the county. The crooks, politicians and voters were everywhere.  Those paying for votes and being bought. Folks running for positions and the voters of we the people. Arguments and shouting broke out between all three camps.  Some of the money changers were murmuring among them selves and those that were standing up for an honest election when someone whispered something about a gun and that word spread quietly around.  During the shouting someone called my father a name, which was not a bright idea.  My father was tucking his shirt in and squinting his eyes under his cowboy hat as he started marching for the other camp and the person that cussed him.  Some woman grabbed my father by the belt loop, leaned in and whispered, Don’t go. Someone has a gun.”  My brothers girlfriend was standing close enough to hear and when she heard it she took off running down the hill towards our house.  We lived a the bottom of the hill and had a farm so there was a cattle gap in front of the driveway.  She dove between the wires, all the while yelling for my mother, Pat come quick they are going to shoot Bob and Momma took off in the car to get daddy before he got himself shot.  A few years after we left the area, the job of Road supervisor was won by  the man who owned the general store there and eventually got elected Mayor or something like that.  Anyway, the store owner got caught in fraud, using his position for personal gain and had to go to jail.   Doesn’t that remind you of the elections going on now?  Whoever can get the biggest pile of money or donations wins.  It happens everyday.  It poured down rain when my father was laid to rest.

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About 1wanderingtruthseeker

I'm a fiftish woman that has opinions and passions about nearly everything under the sun. I love a good debate, not name calling. I believe in the Constitution , the Bill of Rights and God. I believe the government which governs the least is the best government of all. I believe in the rights of the people. I dispatched fire trucks, the Po-Po and ambulances for a long time so I have a wicked sense of dark humor and speak fluent sarcasm. I think out loud a lot times. I am offensive. But I'm offensive of everybody. Socially unacceptable, plain spoken and unashamed. If you don't want to be offend, please don't read and if you do, please consider that I'm not politically correct in any sense of the word.
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