Trending
No one knew the value of a quarter more than my father. I know because that was the amount of coinage he offered me when I asked for milk money before heading to school or out for a night at the skating rink.
Although our mother packed us sack lunches, there was always the need to buy a notebook or new pencils. All I knew is that whatever the need, it better not cost more than 25 cents or I would have to save up to make the purchase.
Later when I worked in the same newspaper office with my father, the late Harry C. Hamm, I was tasked with getting him lunch each day. The quarter he used to give me as a child morphed into a $1 bill.
Now you might wonder how I bought him lunch for that small amount of cash. But it was the late 1970s and early 1980s and it was still possible to buy a decent hamburger with mustard and pickles for a buck in downtown Wheeling.
During Lent, I would bring him a grilled cheese sandwich I could buy for 65 cents at the lunch counter at G.C. Murphy's on Market Street. And yes I would bring him the change from the $1 or grab him a candy bar to spend it all.
Sometimes I just packed an extra meatloaf sandwich from my own kitchen that he gladly accepted at lunchtime. Then out came those quarters again to purchase a can of Coke from the office vending machines.
Dad grew up when the word "depression" was not something you could medicate away. It was a time of great sacrifice and poverty for many in this country. I believe our Dad learned the value of every penny, nickel and quarter he earned at various jobs in his youth during those lean times.
He told us about going down to the wharf along the Ohio River where the boats would bring in goods. He wowed us with the stories of earning a few bucks by unloading boxes of bananas that often included some large spiders. He also worked at a Wheeling watchmaker's side and learned something about repairing watches.
Dad even spent time as a night watchman at a local funeral home. I'm not sure why a funeral home needed a security guard. He scared us with some of those stories.
All I know is that all 12 of his children never shied away from work. We all knew that if we wanted a new dress or golf club, it was best to simply get out and work for it. As teens, we all had jobs after school and during holidays. During the summers we scattered to various jobs at Oglebay Park.
Those jobs, too, taught us the value of paychecks that didn't make us wealthy but allowed us those few extras we sought. It also took the pressure off our parents' budget.
And I think our Dad was happy again to have a few more quarters jingling in his pocket.
Happy Father's Day.
Heather Ziegler can be reached via email at hziegler@theintelligencer.net.