"This is Chester Claiborn"

“Righteous Father, though the world does not know you, I know you, and they know that you have sent me.” John 17:25 NIV

This is how my dad started literally every phone call he ever made, even if it was to a friend. This post will appear on his death anniversary. He died in 2013 after a battle with Alzheimer’s disease. No one wins that fight. I have written about him before, but I am thinking about him a lot today.

I have unfortunately had the opportunity to deal with people I love dying. Everyone has. On the road home tonight, I just sent a text to my four sisters and one brother. I have to say that I am thankful beyond words that I can type four sisters and one brother. I am thankful for all of them. I wish I saw them all more.

The end of his life was rough. I want to concentrate on the rest of it. In the text I just asked them for any favorite stories or prominent lessons they would want to share. A couple of them had probably already went to bed due to their advanced age (good morning sisters), but there were some consistent themes.

He did not have a lot of education. He went to school through third or fourth grade. He got pulled from the classroom to work on the farm. This was back in the day. They farmed with mules. I remember him telling me about when they got their first “two row” plow. Can you imagine working single rows?

With little education, his mind was not going to support the family. His back did that. We all remember him working every single hour of overtime he could get. If Santa Fe called on a weekend he was to be interrupted. He never turned down overtime. I remember him saying “time and a half on Saturday. Triple time on Sunday.” Some men use work as a means to provide. Some use it for status. Some use it as a barrier to hide behind. He used it to feed us. It took hours in bulk to do so.

We remember his word meaning something. If he told you yes. It was yes, no matter what. My sister Karen remembered him telling her how to peel potatoes. If you took too much potato while peeling them, he corrected you. Leave the light on in your room, that cost you a quarter. Leave clothes on the floor, he took them. In hindsight, he had to be this way. Life is expensive. Prices were certainly lower, but so were wages. Thinking back, I do not remember him ever being in “off” mode. We needed him to work so he did.

He used to go to truck “rodeo’s”. In them he would compete with truckers from all over the country. They did crazy hard things with those big trucks. He would pull single trailers, doubles, and triples. I cannot imagine pulling three semi trailers. He was recognized every year for safety. He was involved in zero accidents in spite of pulling trailers throughout the Kansas City metro area for over 30 years. He was only ever in two wrecks. In one a car that was going the wrong way hit him head on. Dad was driving in a parade at the time, not kidding. In the second one a truck that he sold ran a stop sign and hit the car he had just bought. You can’t make that up.

He also had a sense of humor. He loved to mess with us. I remember one April Fool’s day getting a phone call about 5:00 am. “This is you neighbor, is my dog in your yard?” After walking back in to the house still in my underwear I could hear him laughing before I even picked up the phone.

He had to be tired. He had to want to back off at times. He simply could not. I remember one time he took all of his vacation at one time. He was off for five weeks. It drove him crazy. He always took them in smaller doses after that. I remember going to look at campers with him, often. We went fishing and we did some tent camping. But he dreamed of having a camper. He never pulled the trigger to buy one. I really wish he had.

History won’t remember him much. He lived in a time where labor was highly valued. Technology had not developed to allow alternatives. But his impact is still on this earth. He has six kids, a bunch of grandkids and great grandkids. He was as consistent as any human I have ever known. Not perfect. One of the lessons I have learned is that there is a line between memorializing and idolizing. He was not perfect and we did not expect him to be.

But he was straight up as consistent at being who he said he was as anyone I have known. This is our dad. That was enough for him. This is Chester Claiborn.

What do you want to be known for when you are gone?

What are you known for now? If there is a difference, why not change that?

Challenge: Be who you say you are. We all have work to do and people who count on us. But don’t leave out time with the very people you are supporting just to support them.

Rick Claiborn