I never knew my dad. He and my mom divorced when I was a toddler. I did see him over the years, and once when I was about 12 years old, I spent several days with him. I would see him fleetingly over the years but spoke very little with him. I ran into him several times during my Hobo Joe years at different locations. We both were inebriated during those times. The last time I saw him was at Tribe's powwow in 1988. I had heard he had quit drinking for some time. We talked for a while, and then he made an unusual request; he asked if he could stay with me. I had been sober, divorced for several years, and living by myself when he made that strange request. I declined; I was not entirely convinced that he would stay sober. He died a couple of months later. Although he did not raise me, he influenced my life in several ways.
I was shooting pool in Devils Lake's infamous Colonial Bar when an old guy came over and remarked how good I was. He added, "Your dad was a damn good pool player too." My girlfriend, who stayed with me for quite some time after that, told me later that I became fixated with pool from that time on.
My dad and his brothers were known for their hunting and shooting skills. Although not much of a hunter myself, I bought my son's rifles at an early age and encouraged them to hunt because I wanted them to be like my dad. I taught them to offer tobacco when they make a kill. Marshall and Ryan are now good shots and good hunters.
Mom and other old-timers have told me, "Your dad was a handsome man. Women were always after him." Could this be why I enjoy the company of beautiful women so much?
Lastly, and most importantly, my dad was a gentle soul. Although he was not a fighter, he lived in an era when fighting was common. I never heard him speak in anger about another person when I was with him. He was always in a good mood, laughing and telling jokes and humorous stories. And he truly loved me, my sister Becky and my brother Mark.
Unfortunately, he grew up in an era when alcohol was common as meth is today. Once infected with alcoholism, it hounded him until his premature death at age 65. A few years short of age 65, I wish I had made more of an attempt to get to know my dad. And now I realized I loved him also... sorry it took so long to admit that, dad.
