Daddy, Part I

Joseph Anderson Crenshaw 1933-75

      Joseph Anderson Crenshaw--my daddy.  Daddy could be fun. I loved going to the beach with him because he would get out and swim and bob the waves with us. He'd also throw us out into deeper water, which was thrilling. One summer, he got some wood and made us a little cart, stilts, and a see-saw. He also was one of the first on our street to take apart skates and put the wheels on a board--viola'--skateboard! Billy and I had the dog pull us on the skateboard, rather than riding it the correct way. Daddy loved hosting watermelon parties for the street during the summer. He get several melons, put them in metal washtubs with ice for a few hours, and then we all feasted on the coldest, sweetest watermelon! Someone told me that if you ate the white part of the rind, you'd be poisoned, so I always left plenty of pink, but Daddy would eat it all and spit out the seeds. He also taught us that people in the know always put a little salt on their melon. It was also a great treat for us when Daddy made home-made ice cream in an old hand-cranked freezer. We'd crank it, at first, but it would get too hard, then Daddy would take over. I loved tasting the cold salty water that would dribble down the side of the freezer. Daddy could make anything, and he made a grill from a giant metal drum. He seemed to love applying the lighter fluid with a very heavy hand because everything had the faint taste of petroleum.

The watermelon and I

     People would always tell me how funny Daddy was. Really, I didn't get it. I still don't think of him as being funny. I do remember, though, when the guys from the neighborhood would sit around on the front porch, and they'd all be laughing at whatever Daddy was saying. He'd pull pranks on them, especially Mr. O'Chipa who was a wee bit gullible, but well-loved by Daddy.  I remember one of his pranks. We spent Easter afternoon with our friends the Hulseys. Of course, we had an Easter Egg Hunt. Back then, before everyone was concerned about salmonella, the adults would hide real boiled eggs. Well, we kids found all the eggs except one. Mrs. Hulsey and Mommy were worried about that egg going rotten in the Miami sun. So, we searched and searched for at least an hour.Finally, Daddy and Mr. Hulsey, smiling like possums, admitted that Daddy had eaten the egg. At least they found that trick hilarious! I don't think the moms did.
    After Mommy died, Daddy changed, and he became a harder man. I didn't understand then, but I understand now. A widower with three children--my sister only two years old. He had to shoulder more responsibility, and he had to deal with a teenage daughter. Daddy was an only child, so he had no clue about raising girls. Especially a hyper-emotional teen. But, he did his best. And I learned some very valuable skills from him.
    Daddy was a perfectionist. I, by nature, am not. But, he taught me that when you have a job to do, then you do it right. When you're working, do more than what is asked of you. When I got my first job as a popcorn girl at a local movie theater, he told me to work hard, and, if I ran out of things to do, to always ask the manager for more work. I've followed that philosophy all of my working life. And I have reaped the rewards of Daddy's work philosophy. He also reaped the rewards of his philosophy. He was a diesel mechanic and worked on all kinds of engines. He also worked on people's cars and yachts. The rich people who lived down on Star Island passed his name around as a man who was an excellent, honest, and hard-working mechanic. Daddy's reward? He worked for the president of FPL. He was so impressed with Daddy's skill and work ethic, that he hired him as part of the management team. Here he was, a man with a high school diploma from a vocational school, part of FPL's management team. I saw that hard work and giving extra would pay off and was, really, just the right thing to do. I also learned by watching him always to be myself. As he advanced in management, he was just Joe. I remember a picture he had of the management team of FPL. Everyone was in a suit and tie; there was Daddy in a short-sleeve shirt, no tie. He even had an old fashioned fish fry to which he invited the management team. We still lived in working class Ives Estates, but Daddy didn't care. He cleaned out the carport, cut a metal barrel in half to use as the fryer, set out paper plates, cheap wine, and plenty of folding chairs. He was just being who he was and they loved it. I, a little surly at having to attend, ended up playing duets at the piano with one of the vice presidents.Thanks, Daddy, for teaching me to be genuine!
    
    

The Cracker Girl's Guide to Creepy Critters, Part II

     Florida Cracker Jim Stafford sings: "I don't like spiders and snakes, and that's not what it takes to love me." This Cracker Girl would rather have spiders and snakes than the creepy insects that live in Florida.
     I really don't mind spiders. In fact, I was taught never to kill a spider because they are good luck. There were the little grey spiders that I'd play with, if I could catch one. Even now, if there is a spider in the house, I'll take her out and release her. We always have at least one big spider web and its occupant in our front ivy garden--she is welcome to stay and eat as many insects as she can! However, there is one Florida spider that I don't handle and that, even I, find a bit intimidating--The Banana Spider. Now, these were never found in the Miami suburbs. I first saw one on a childhood camping trip. Admittedly, I backed off a bit. Biggest spider I had ever seen! However, they are really beautiful, with their bright colors. My brother has been known to pick them up and let them rest in his beard. I'm not quite that friendly with them. There are many people who do not like spiders, so I'm sure they would not want to encounter a Banana spider!

Banana Spider

There is one insect that I have always been terrified by, and I have been assured that they don't DO anything to people. I don't really believe it, though. That is the Lubber grasshopper. Nothing I hated more than being out playing hide-and-seek in Grandmother's hedges and coming across one of them. They are so big. Big ole boogly eyes. I suspect they can fly pretty well. Mommy told me that when I was maybe 3 or 4 that I kept one in a glass jar as a pet. I do not remember that, nor do I want to. My uncles James and Larry had them, so I insisted on having one as well. When there was one on our plants, Grandmother would just grab her shoe and smash it, while I was running far, far away! When we moved up to North Central Florida, I discovered the juvenile Lubber. One year, we went up to Ginny Springs, and as we walked, there were literally hundreds of black hoppers with a red or yellow stripe down their bodies. A little research, and I realized I had been introduced to baby Lubbers. Nope. I don't like them any more than the adult ones. Grandmother had good reason to smash them; they are very destructive to gardens.

Juvenile Lubber

Lubber Grasshopper

 Finally, no discussion of Florida critters would be complete without discussing our roaches. Now, I don't mean the little German roaches; I mean the big, flying cockroaches that every Floridian has encountered sometime in his or her life. Many people mistakenly call them "Palmetto Bugs," but that is a whole different roach. I'm talking about the big roaches that really don't live inside in large numbers, but they do come indoors, especially during rainy season or if you have uncovered dog food! People from Up North have a difficult time understanding that the odd flying roach or two is just a fact of Florida life.I learned very early in life that these roaches will show up in the most unexpected places. My best friend Dana, her sisters, and I decided, one summer day, to pull down the "bark" that surrounded the top of their coconut palm with intentions of making hula skirts.  Imagine our surprise when hundreds of roaches came flying out at us! Four little girls shrieking at the top of our lungs and batting away flying roaches as we ran. To this day, there is nothing more frightening than sitting quietly, watching TV, and then hearing IT. The whir of the wings, then the silhouette of the roach--body hanging down--as it flies across the room and lands on the wall. General confusion ensues with someone finally getting brave enough to squash the roach. In my time, I've squashed them with shoes, magazines, newspapers; I've sprayed them with spray starch and hair spray. Mostly, I get my husband to take care of it, while I cower. Everyone has "that" roach story. My husband had one fly into his mouth while he was sleeping. I had one crawl onto a student's long hair during class. And only one boy was brave enough to squash it and throw it away--in the outside trash can. I would almost claim that once you've battled--and won--against a Florida flying roach, you can call yourself a True Florida Cracker.