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in Charles Heiser Family

My Wintry Ancestor: my dad, Charlie Heiser

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A recent prompt for 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks was: Winter.  

When I think of a winter, I think of snow. And when I think of snow I think of my dad, Charlie Heiser (1913-2001).

My dad loved snow.

When it snowed Dad would take my sister, Joyce, with him to go ride around in the snow. She recalls they would slide around in the snow on purpose and laugh. This fun and games went on year after year until he hit a mailbox. Then he didn’t take Joyce out like that again. I never went. I was younger than Joyce, so I never had the opportunity.

Color photo of a man shoveling snow from around an early 1960's car. Houses can be seen in the background.
My dad shoveling snow from around his car. Early 1960’s. Vienna, Virginia

For some crazy reason, my dad loved to shovel snow. He’d be out there as soon as a few inches had accumulated even if it was still snowing. He shoveled the steps, the walk, and around his car; only to do it again once there was more snow. His fascination for shoveling snow did not pass on to Joyce or me. We certainly did our share of shoveling, but didn’t take delight in it like Dad did.

My favorite snow memories of my dad happened every time it snow at night. From our front door, you could see a street light. Whenever it would snow at night, I would stand at the door and watch the snow in the stream of light. It was so peaceful to watch.

Faded color photo of snow on a suburban street with a car in a driveway and several cars on the street. A street light is visible.
The streetlight that could be seen from the front door of my house. The car in the driveway on the right is my dad’s car in our driveway. circa 1979 Vienna, Virginia

Invariably, Dad would come around the corner to see where the draft was coming from. He’d ask what I was doing, and I’d say it was snowing. “Isn’t it beautiful?” I would say.

Every time; he would smile, bend down behind me and put his scratchy five o’clock shadow cheek up again mine so he could look out with me, and say “It’s as pretty as a picture postcard.”

At the house I live in now, I can watch snow fall in the light of a streetlight. I make sure I do every time it snows at night just so I can remember Dad’s contagious smile, his prickly cheek against mine, and the sound of his voice.  

Copyright ©  2018 Nancy H. Vest   All Rights Reserved

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« Jerry M. Thomas: next to the last
Martha Heiser’s parents: my first brick wall »

Comments

  1. Laura Mc Coy says

    December 29, 2018 at 4:55 pm

    Love this.
    Lovet the pictures.

    Reply
    • Nancy H. Vest says

      January 3, 2019 at 7:07 pm

      Thanks, Laura. 🙂

      Reply

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