Trending
I can still hear the rumble of the trains that would occupy the ping pong table every holiday season. You could smell the artificial smoke from the old trains our dad placed on that table in the basement. And of course, he smiled broadly when he pulled the switch to activate a whistle as the trains passed through the homemade paper tunnels he painstakingly created and painted to look like the real thing.
Our dad had few distractions from his busy life as a newspaper editor, but he truly enjoyed those model trains. He grew up in Center Wheeling at a time when trains were a regular part of the city landscape. They passed through neighborhoods bringing goods and passengers into the Friendly City and beyond.
He rode a train off to war and returned the same way, only when he got home, he carried with him the shrapnel of war that would be with him until his death. Small pieces of the metal would work their way out of the top of his head or his knee. Despite this visible reminder of his time in the service, he rarely talked of his battlefield experiences, at least not to his curious children.
Many who knew our dad as the editor of the Wheeling News-Register for 50 years would often seek his advice or simply ask for his ear on a variety of topics. Our generous front porch served as a secondary office as visitors often showed up after dinner to "run something by him." He listened to would-be and seated politicians. He entertained business leaders and hosted backyard picnics for family and friends.
Even a few new-to-the-area reporters were invited to break bread with Dad and our family so they would not feel so alone. Somehow there was always room for a few more at our already-crowded dinner table.
There was another time when Dad would take to the basement to escape his boisterous family of wife, 12 children, two dogs and assorted neighbor kids. Down in the recesses of the basement, he began a new hobby.
Few people know this about our dad but he was an excellent artist. He painted numerous subjects from streetscapes to a brooding black and white flood scene. Of all the things our dad left behind at the time of his much-too-young passing in 1991 were his paintings.
His legacy doesn't live on just in the newsprint. He also left us his life played out on canvas with colorful oils. I'll admit there were a few tugs of war among my siblings over those paintings. Dad also passed along his artistic talents to several family members.
My brothers Jamie and Jon have inherited notable talents when it comes to the paint brush. Each has a unique style with a touch of Dad's leanings.
Even some of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren are showing signs of this shared talent. I think he would be happy to know that.
These days, I can only listen to the sound of a passing train and smile at the memories of my own father. If you are lucky enough to have your dad around, spend some time with him on Sunday. Fathers matter every day.
Heather Ziegler can be reached via email at hziegler@theintelligencer.net.