Dan Geddings: My father

In my mind, when I was young, he was 10 feet tall and bulletproof. I thought no other man equaled him, and I practically worshiped the ground that he walked on. He was my father, and he was my mentor. He taught me and my brothers how to hunt and fish. He taught us how to be safe with a gun and how to respect the land. He taught us how to navigate Sparkleberry Swamp and the old Indian Camp. We learned the creeks and lakes in Pocotaligo and the islands and sloughs of Lake Marion from him. We camped out, and he taught us to cook what we shot and caught. He kept hounds, bird dogs and beagles and taught us how to handle them. With him we fished and ran trot lines and bush lines. He taught us respect for the law and how to treat people. We had a big family, but we always had more than we needed. We gave fish and game to our friends and neighbors.

My father, Delaney Geddings, was born on a hardscrabble farm in the Home Branch Community of Clarendon County, two years before the stock market crashed. There was no electricity, no telephones and no paved roads out in the country. They didn't have a car. His childhood was defined by the Great Depression. People suffered, especially in the rural South. There was no money and no government assistance, but the farm, woods and waters fed them.

When he turned 18, he and a friend hitchhiked to Charleston and joined the Navy. Germany had not yet surrendered, and the war in the Pacific was raging. He was sent to recruit training at the Great Lakes Command, then assigned to the Pacific Fleet as a seaman. His father was killed in an automobile accident before his enlistment, and the war ended. He was granted a hardship discharge and sent home to support his family. His friend did not survive the war.

He went to work and supported his mother and younger brothers and sisters for several years. Later, he married and started his own family. He was a good father to us - his six children. I was about midway in that mix, with an older brother and sister. He had infinite patience with me and needed it, as I was not the best subject in our family.

His Sports Afield magazines and books on wildlife were treasures to me. All I wanted was to follow him to the woods and waters and walk in his shoes. I cared not so much for the shooting or catching but wanted the experience - to see the deer and the ducks, to see the next bend around the creek and to hear the calls of the wild. He understood that and never tried to change me.

When I got older, I realized that he was not perfect and was just a man. And like all men - he had some faults. But I still loved him - in spite of his faults.

Eventually I went out on my own, started my own family and became a father myself. I've tried to set a good example and be a good father. But, just like my own father, I've had hardships and made some mistakes along the way.

After we lost our mother to cancer, he slunk into a dark depression, and after a few short years, we lost him, too. It was the year before Hurricane Hugo. I miss him and think about him every day. The world has changed a lot since then. Now we all have cellphones and home computers, and everybody has a car. Father's Day is a celebration of our fathers and a way to honor their influence on our lives. If you still have your father, tell him how much he means to you.

Reach Dan Geddings at cdgeddings@gmail.com.