A LABOR OF LOVE

Right before we lost Dad, I went to visit him in Wright City.

When I arrived, Dad was sitting behind his house on a two foot section of wood that had been cut from the trunk of an oak tree. Piled near him was maybe a hundred other such sections of oak.

While sitting on the piece of oak, Dad would stand another piece on its end, place a hatchet against the wood, and then pound on the hatchet with a hammer in order to split the wood into smaller (usually four) pieces. Think slow, hard work.

By this stage, Dad was barely able to walk and could do very little work due to the condition of his heart, so I asked him how many logs did he split per day. He said usually one and sometimes two.

Dad then paused for a moment and told me very quietly that he wanted Lou to have a cord of split and seasoned firewood for the next winter and he didn't feel he would be around to do it for her.

Dad died on December 7, 1999. After the funeral I went behind Dad's house to "touch" some of his things and I saw neatly stacked a full cord of split seasoned oak firewood to carry Lou thru the winter.

I doubt that anyone knew how difficult it was for Dad to create that "wealth of warmth", but I viewed it as a true labor of love for Lou.