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Unpredictable father made for memorable moments
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Published: June 21, 2009
He didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.
Clarence Budington Kelland
It happened a long, long time ago — in the first or second grade at Mebane Elementary School.
I was standing on the corner waiting for my father to pick me up after school. He had forgotten, and eventually my mother arrived. That's one of the many memories I have of my father, Eldridge D. Alston, as we celebrate Father's Day and his 81st birthday the day before.
It wasn't long after that incident that I attended Columbia Heights Elementary for my fourth-grade year. I remember that we had a towel-tag football team that played after school and I wanted to participate. There was one small problem though — my father told me not to.
We had moved from Columbia Terrace (now Skyline Village) to 1633 E. 23rd Street, across Jackson Avenue and down the hill a bit. My father told me I couldn't play, as I would not have transportation home. I heard him, but ... I really wanted to play. And I did, knowing I would be in trouble. Fortunately, my grandmother lived between the school and home. I stopped there first and she interceded as only a grandmother could.
I laugh about that incident now, thinking about how I peered around the back of my grandmother as she looked at her son. "El, don't you hit that boy," I recall her saying. I was thinking — not talking, mind you — "Yeah, hit me, and I am going to tell your mother on you."
Then there was the lesson learned late one night — actually very early in the morning. My father, the first black sheriff's deputy in Forsyth County, was working a late shift and arrived home some time after midnight. I had one assignment that day, to wash the front picture window. And you guessed it — I did something else instead. I played basketball all day.
At that time — I was in junior high school — Bon Ami was the preferred window cleaner. It looked like a bar of soap. You wet a rag, soaped it up and applied it to the window. It would dry to a fine haze, and then you would wipe it off. It was like waxing a car. It comes in a spray can now. Boy, I could have used it that night.
"Did you wash the windows?" he asked as he entered my room. "No, I will do it in the morning," I responded. I was right. I did it in the morning — at about 1 o'clock in the morning, to be exact. He turned on the front porch light, put me outside with a bucket of water, my bar of Bon Ami, a rag and locked the door. At least that is what I recall, and I am sticking to my story.
I do remember him coming home one day with a gift — a baseball glove. Wow. I played on a Little League team, the Reds, and often outside in the front yard, sometimes by myself. I'd just throw the ball high up in the air and catch it, imitating Willie Mays. I couldn't wait to break in the glove, put a little oil in the palm and play ball. That was fun.
After leaving home for Livingstone College, I could count on my father stopping by unannounced. I came to expect the unexpected. Once, while sitting out in the front of the campus with my fiancée, now my wife, he pulled up behind us. What a surprise! He checked in, gave me a few dollars, and back home he went. Another time, it was a knock on my dorm-room door. I won't tell you the comments expressed on the other side of the door, not knowing who was knocking. Suffice it to say, my mouth was wide open — as in, oh no, you are in trouble now. He never said a word about that incident, he just checked in, as he usually did.
There are more stories to tell than I have time or space to do so. While we didn't have a lot of long conversations, I observed him and how he carried himself, and his work ethic. His example taught me a lot. When you see me, you see him.
Daddy, I am proud to be your son and I love you. Happy Father's Day and Happy Birthday.
Nigel Alston is a Dale Carnegie trainer and motivational speaker who lives in Winston-Salem. He can be reached at nalston1@triad.rr.com.
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