Remembering Freedom through
My Father
My Father
I guess that the true meaning of freedom has best been lived in my father's age. He was born on November 10th, 1929, we lost him in what seems like ages ago, about eighteen months.
He worked hard his whole life. That is what he was here for; he'd have it no other way. He was an old school barber for over fifty years. The type of barber that knew all the haricuts, shaves, hot towel rubs etc...
My sister and I grew up with barber chairs in our family room. Expert as he was, he hated it. That was his trade, it put cash in his pocket and food on the table. Not bad. But let's go a little further back.
See, 1929 was the start of the Great Depression. To listen to his stories, you would have to realize that we really have nothing today, No where near the freedom that he had. He would say that he never knew how poor he was growing up, because everyone else was poor also. That is where his freedom's really were most enjoyed. It was the bountiful years that we have lost ours.
My father bought his first rifle at a candy store on Polk Street in Chicago Illinois. It was a Springfield .22 repeating rifle, holds 16 rounds (I think) and I still have it. He was eleven years old when he bought it, and he did it legally. Today, you cannot own a handgun in Chicago, and crime is rampant. When my father and I returned to our interest in guns (he was in his early seventies then) he decided to make sure his old rifle worked correctly. So my wife and I visit him, he shows us how to clean it, how it works, and then said, "OK, you get three rounds and I get three rounds, we test it in the basement". My wife had a cow. "You can't shoot this in the basement! You'll kill yourselves!" He smiled, gave us the rifle and told us that "we know nothing of freedom".
Later on we went to a gun store where he found a 1917 30-06 and a 1944 M-1 Garand. I asked him which one he wanted, all he could do was shake his head and mutter "both you idiot". Then government shattered an old man's happiness. In Illinois, you have to wait 24 hours from when you buy a rifle to when you bring the rifle home. My father worked two jobs then, and it would be over a week until my father was back on A DAY OFF. (Read closely, he was in his 70's then, more on that later). So, my father asked the store owner if the government was afraid that he was gonna stage a revolution with a rifle older than him. Just then an even older man piped in and started yelling, "yeah, on Guadalcanal I was a BAR man, I gotta wait three days just to buy this revolver". My father looked at my daughter and told her, "my dear, we're going backwards". She was three then.
I said before my father was a barber. He was taught the trade by his father. In the early eighties, it got to a point where a one job household was no longer enough to support the household. That was an easy fix for my dad. If two jobs are needed to raise a family, so be it. So, at the ripe age of Fifty, he decided to learn construction. Not just construction. Brick paving and concrete work, along with granite cutting and blue stone. He would barber on Saturdays and Sundays and Monday mornings (He picked those days for a reason) and work construction the rest of the week. But wait, there is more. He hated unions, he hated the department of labor and social security. So to ensure he had benefits (like insurance) he worked as a custodian, third shift. So this was his day. Monday, barber 9 to 11 and work construction 12 to 6, come home and eat and sleep, work 12am to 8 am. When he wasn't barbering, it was an excuse to go on the job site earlier. He never complained. Nor would he tell any of the unions he was supposed to belong to what he was doing. Pay dues for what? So that they can give it to a politician, nonsense.
He used to say that everyone has freedom of speech. But that doesn't guarantee your right to be heard. In fact, hearing isn't in the Constitution at all. He believed in the Second Amendment. Not only does it ensure your rights in the first amendment, but it is a pretty good insurance policy in case the people don't like what the government has to say.
He hated taxes. He and my mom didn't mind paying what was fair, but they watched his parents die because of excess taxation. Social Security, Head Tax, Unemployment Compensation, on and on.....ruined my grandfather's barber college and barber shops. An entire family fortune was gone in just three years. My Grandmother died at 59, my grandfather died three months later. No one saw a dime from Social Security. The week my grandfather died the Department of Labor and Social Security had the audacity to audit my father because he was sole heir. He was thirty, and he never forgave them. When he finally retired (he just worked construction then), Burger King wanted to give him a 10% discount for his age. He told the poor girl no thanks, after all "Where were you when I needed the help while raising kids?"
So there you have it. Imagine a world where you can work as hard as you want. Hide as much of what you earned as you want. Raise your kids as you want. Buy your first rifle at eleven years old. The list goes on and on. My father was, always was, truly free to do what he wanted. The laws were different. The times were different. Heck, even the food was different (he used to brag that the food was so much better, that an apple was enough for lunch, think back to when you were kids. The food was bigger, but back then the government wasn't in your lunch box). And when the laws were stupid, you just ignored them. I can go on and on with stories, but,
Ahhhh. The Good Old Days. I'm glad he is where he is now. With so many laws and rules in place to protect him today, he would never even begin to enjoy life as he knew it.
John Nudo
Daphne, Alabama
(Via Chicago, Il)
See, 1929 was the start of the Great Depression. To listen to his stories, you would have to realize that we really have nothing today, No where near the freedom that he had. He would say that he never knew how poor he was growing up, because everyone else was poor also. That is where his freedom's really were most enjoyed. It was the bountiful years that we have lost ours.
My father bought his first rifle at a candy store on Polk Street in Chicago Illinois. It was a Springfield .22 repeating rifle, holds 16 rounds (I think) and I still have it. He was eleven years old when he bought it, and he did it legally. Today, you cannot own a handgun in Chicago, and crime is rampant. When my father and I returned to our interest in guns (he was in his early seventies then) he decided to make sure his old rifle worked correctly. So my wife and I visit him, he shows us how to clean it, how it works, and then said, "OK, you get three rounds and I get three rounds, we test it in the basement". My wife had a cow. "You can't shoot this in the basement! You'll kill yourselves!" He smiled, gave us the rifle and told us that "we know nothing of freedom".
Later on we went to a gun store where he found a 1917 30-06 and a 1944 M-1 Garand. I asked him which one he wanted, all he could do was shake his head and mutter "both you idiot". Then government shattered an old man's happiness. In Illinois, you have to wait 24 hours from when you buy a rifle to when you bring the rifle home. My father worked two jobs then, and it would be over a week until my father was back on A DAY OFF. (Read closely, he was in his 70's then, more on that later). So, my father asked the store owner if the government was afraid that he was gonna stage a revolution with a rifle older than him. Just then an even older man piped in and started yelling, "yeah, on Guadalcanal I was a BAR man, I gotta wait three days just to buy this revolver". My father looked at my daughter and told her, "my dear, we're going backwards". She was three then.
I said before my father was a barber. He was taught the trade by his father. In the early eighties, it got to a point where a one job household was no longer enough to support the household. That was an easy fix for my dad. If two jobs are needed to raise a family, so be it. So, at the ripe age of Fifty, he decided to learn construction. Not just construction. Brick paving and concrete work, along with granite cutting and blue stone. He would barber on Saturdays and Sundays and Monday mornings (He picked those days for a reason) and work construction the rest of the week. But wait, there is more. He hated unions, he hated the department of labor and social security. So to ensure he had benefits (like insurance) he worked as a custodian, third shift. So this was his day. Monday, barber 9 to 11 and work construction 12 to 6, come home and eat and sleep, work 12am to 8 am. When he wasn't barbering, it was an excuse to go on the job site earlier. He never complained. Nor would he tell any of the unions he was supposed to belong to what he was doing. Pay dues for what? So that they can give it to a politician, nonsense.
He used to say that everyone has freedom of speech. But that doesn't guarantee your right to be heard. In fact, hearing isn't in the Constitution at all. He believed in the Second Amendment. Not only does it ensure your rights in the first amendment, but it is a pretty good insurance policy in case the people don't like what the government has to say.
He hated taxes. He and my mom didn't mind paying what was fair, but they watched his parents die because of excess taxation. Social Security, Head Tax, Unemployment Compensation, on and on.....ruined my grandfather's barber college and barber shops. An entire family fortune was gone in just three years. My Grandmother died at 59, my grandfather died three months later. No one saw a dime from Social Security. The week my grandfather died the Department of Labor and Social Security had the audacity to audit my father because he was sole heir. He was thirty, and he never forgave them. When he finally retired (he just worked construction then), Burger King wanted to give him a 10% discount for his age. He told the poor girl no thanks, after all "Where were you when I needed the help while raising kids?"
So there you have it. Imagine a world where you can work as hard as you want. Hide as much of what you earned as you want. Raise your kids as you want. Buy your first rifle at eleven years old. The list goes on and on. My father was, always was, truly free to do what he wanted. The laws were different. The times were different. Heck, even the food was different (he used to brag that the food was so much better, that an apple was enough for lunch, think back to when you were kids. The food was bigger, but back then the government wasn't in your lunch box). And when the laws were stupid, you just ignored them. I can go on and on with stories, but,
Ahhhh. The Good Old Days. I'm glad he is where he is now. With so many laws and rules in place to protect him today, he would never even begin to enjoy life as he knew it.
John Nudo
Daphne, Alabama
(Via Chicago, Il)
By: John Nudo - remembering his father's dedication to freedom and responsibility.
John is from Daphne, Alabama. We welcome he and his thoughts aboard.
