Mrs. Teabody Celebrates Her Father

Back row: Richard Henry, Reed Henry, Pete Henry, Raymond Henry Front row: John Henry, Sally Henry, Wendell Henry

Tomorrow is Father's Day. My father passed in May of 2006 so quite a few June Sundays dedicated to honoring fathers have passed without someone on the receiving end of a funny card, a poke of RedMan, a singing bass to hang on the wall and my life is poorer for it. I grew up in a home with three brothers and three sisters, a stay-at-home mom, a work away father, and I have always known what it means to be born a Henry but it is only in my very late years that I have come to fully appreciate the great gift of my heritage.

Pictured above are some of the biggest influences on my early life. This photograph was taken in 1966 at a Henry gathering in Clear Ridge, less than a mile from where the folks in the photograph grew up--the five handsome and witty uncles, the beautiful and vivacious aunt and all of them so very happy in each other's company. With them came the cousins, our noisy, adventuresome blood brothers and sisters. We loved our cousins because they were extensions of our aunts and uncles. Therein lies the fundamental truth of what it meant then and what it means now to be a part of such a family. I do not recall ever hearing any of them say the words "I love you" to each other, but a deeper love, respect and regard could not have been demonstrated more clearly. These were the folks happily(?) waiting to receive our huge family into their homes on the very infrequent  Sunday motor car journeys. These were the folks who gathered at the farm for hunting, for fishing outings,  for ice cream festivals  and for extended periods of what Dad called porchitis, the irrestitible urge to sit on the porch and do absolutely nothing.  Dad was never happier than during the times he spent with his brothers and his sister. He was at his most unguarded, his most relaxed, his most congenial. That lesson did not pass unnoticed

When I was a little girl, I loved to hear my father singing. One of my favorites was "Cruising Down the River on a Sunday Afternoon". I liked the words and the tune but I mostly liked the fact that my father-- who was ALWAYS working -- had a few hours on a Sunday to enjoy being inside the house his labor paid for and our family industry maintained. My father valued industry and he valued being known for it. On his tombstone are carved the words from his evaluation as a part of the Civilian Conservation Corps: "A willing and conscientious worker of the highest grade." He never drank alcohol and he would break up a gossip session by saying, " It's not polite to talk about people." He loved his  hunting dogs and roaming the woods all hours of the night with affable companions. Friday nights in warm, "dampy" weather meant two things: the Friday Night Fights and going for "night crawlers" with one person holding the flashlight and the other an empty Chase and Sanborn can. Night crawlers were essential for my father's absolute favorite pastime: fishing. The uncles loved it too. Many, many hours were spent together on fine summer days and even in the dead of winter on the ice "Pete" or "Ramie" by his side. He adored his brothers. The day we learned of my Uncle Pete's death was the first time I ever saw my father weep inconsolably. Others losses would follow but that first hit knocked the wind out of him. That lesson did not pass unnoticed.

I hope my father knew how much I appreciate being part of his family. I think he did. His protracted illness  through 2005-2006 brought us all back to the Henry Farm doing shift work in his care. Through the journal entries  made daily during that time, my brothers and sisters reconnected. On his death we all seven inherited Henry Farm, and we are the sixth generation to do so. I love being part of that continuum, that bit of history. I love being a daughter to a father who worked hard, who moderated his behavior, who knew the value of both work and leisure and who carved out a nearly perfect place for me to spend my formative years. But even more than all that, I love my father for giving me brothers and sisters and teaching me that they are my heart and soul.