Why Me Father?

By C. Christine Pressley

I chose the title of this book because that was the question I ask almost every minute of my life. Whether it be to my earth-bound father or my heavenly Father. I was raised believing in God, so when these tragic events happened in my life, the question got even more frequent; I could not understand what I had done so bad in my life to be treated like I was. Through God's help, I don't ask that question anymore. I understand that there is a reason for every second of our life, whether good or bad. I finally understand we may not know that reason, but God knows and that is fine with me. I know God is always with us through our journey on this earth. This book was so hard for me to write emotionally, to let everyone know my emotional and physical pain. But I felt drawn by God to let everyone know God is real and he is there for you. All you have to do is ask. May God bless you and your family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098010867

Book preview

Chapter 1

My Childhood

I was born in the Lee County Hospital to the parents of Walter Knight and Nancy Jane Knight. My father was born November 11, 1918, and my mother June 8, 1925. I was raised up in the small town of Broadway, North Carolina, just inside the Harnett County line on a road named Knight Road. It is paved now but was a dirt road back then. I was brought into this world in the dog days of summer, August 19, 1969. My dad used to say I needed another child like I needed another hole in my head. I know people think your life could not have been too hard; look at the year when you were born. My father was a sawmill worker only making minimum wage, and my mom would babysit to bring in extra money.

I am the youngest of three girls. Can you believe my mom and dad never used birth control? To me it is hard to believe, especially when your older sister Angie is twenty-five years older than you and your middle sister Beth is fifteen years older than you. I guess that you really could say we were all only children because of the years’ difference in between us.

Growing up, I thought I had it all. It was not till I started going to school when I found out how bad my life was. That is when I realized just how cruel people can be. I was raised poor, but to me then, I thought it was perfect. Yes, I got one pair of shoes a year if lucky. I got only a couple of new outfits a year, always before the school year started, to get me through every day of school with clean clothes. We had the ringer type washing machine in the backyard. I remember getting my hand caught in it several times, getting the water out of the clothes. It wasn’t till that one stopped working when we got the newer model that had the safety feature of opening up when jammed. Or ours were broke to start with, and I just did not know it. We hung our clothes on a line outside to dry. I have to pull water from a well to get water. In the heat of summer, that was the best cold water. Drinking out of an aluminum dipper. I took baths outside in a washtub in the summer, letting the sun heat the water. We had an outhouse to use the bathroom in. We had a wood heater in the house. No air-conditioner, just fan and window. We had a black and white TV. I slept on a cast-iron bed. I have washed clothes in the sink and dried them behind a wood heater for school. I have got up in the mornings to make a fire in the wood stove. Them wood floors were real cold in the wintertime. My dad bought that house as a dollar-down house years ago. So on the inside, it was cheaper if he did the inside of the house as my mom told me when I started asking questions. We took bird baths in the sink in the cold weather. I had washed my hair from rainwater running off the house during a rainstorm. I have helped my mom kill chickens in the yard for dinner. I have helped kill our hogs in the backyard for my dad to put meat up in the pack house. I have helped make lard and crackling in a wash pot. I still have that pot to this day. It was hard for me to eat the meat of the animals I took care of everyday. They were my pets, I thought, till I got older to learn they were our food. I worked in the tobacco fields all my life. I have worked in the garden to help my dad put food on the table. I have shucked them beans till my fingernails were so sore to the touch. Yes, I complained all the time to my parents about being tired. My dad would say he did not raise lazy kids. I never received any money for this growing up. I only got a piece of candy or a cold soda every now and then if the money was there. I was not able to attend kindergarten because of being sick. My mom made sure I was ready for first grade. She taught me how to write, my colors, and the alphabet. She was a very smart woman. But when school came, the kids were so mean because of their laughing at the way I lived. It was not till I became a teenager that we got the good things in life as I learned from them: the running water in house, the bathroom with tub and shower.

My life was really rough to me going to school cause of all the bullying I got every day on the bus and classroom. My first memory that really hurt me the most caused me to never give letters to my parents about school events again. This happened when I was in the first grade; it was bring-your-parents-to-school day, and I was so happy for my parents to come. On that day, I was showing my parents around the classroom and a couple of kids came up to me and said its parents’ day, not grandparents’ day. Then a lot of the kids started picking at me on my mom’s weight because she was a big woman and how my dad was wearing overhauls. It still makes me mad to this day to think about that. If they only knew she made me attend church every Sunday with my aunt who stayed next door to us. I prayed all the time for the bullying to stop and asking God, Why me, Father? The kids on the bus seemed to love calling me Trigger, a horse, and being picked on about the outhouse that we had to use till the bathroom got finished with running water. We had a ringer type wash machine in the backyard and had to heat water on the stove. This did not bother me, it was all I knew, but I did not have many friends because of all the picking. I came home crying so much, and I said if I ever get away from these mean people, I would never see them again. That is why I have never attended a class reunion since I graduated. Because being popular in their eyes was picking on someone that did not have much, and it seemed to make their lives happier. I hope they enjoyed every minute of it.

My father went on the school bus several times to help stop the bullying. But if he only knew he made it worse on me. He was about five foot five and weight was about one forty. He was a strong-willed man in anything he believed in. He fought in World War II and never let me forget it was no place for a woman from his point of view. I wish I would have listened to more of his stories. I told him I wanted to be a paratrooper in the army and he told me no, it was not a place a woman should be. He told me of him working in Pinehurst golf courses. I never knew why he quit but was reminded of it every time I mowed the grass in the backyard. He would remind me that is where he got that grass. That grass was as soft as a carpet and felt good on bare feet. All I remember him working at was the sawmill coming up, and on the weekends making moonshine with one of his buddies. My dad loved his alcohol but got up every morning to provide for his family. He could not read. He said he had to quit school to help his family growing up. He had no middle name. I asked him why and he said that is just the way it was. I know it hurt him not being able to read when he would hold a paper. I told him why you look at the paper and he said it has some pictures. He could make you smile sometimes with the way he took on life. But when he was mad, leave him alone. He was not a talker, and if you did not like it, then leave.

My mom was about five foot seven and weight was a loving big woman. She was so smart with an excellent memory. Great in spelling and math. She graduated from Broadway School. She told me of her having one job when she was younger of working in Washington. I don’t remember all of what she said about her life because she didn’t talk to me much about it. All I remember is her babysitting kids for people to make money. She would always tell me just to get an education and driver’s license. She never had one. I asked why and she said there was always a bus. We rode that Greyhound in Sanford a lot. Because Dad did not like driving that much.

The only grandparent who was living when I came along was my mother’s father. He died when I was about ten. He was a very tall man and my dad did not like him. He was a strong-willed man too, and maybe that is why they did not like each other. My family never talked about our relatives that much or their problems. Like my dad used to tell me, we have enough problems without worry about anybody else’s. I was taught you don’t talk about people and you respect your elders. As you can tell, I was a daddy’s girl and hung to him like glue. I decided at a young age that if I ever had children, it would be before age thirty. I wanted my children to have grandparents when their children got older. Because I would have sure loved to have known mine. I sometimes got ill because of my other sister’s, who got to at least meet more of them than me. But still, they would not talk of them much either. I guess because of how dad taught us to be private people. Our business was ours, nobody else’s. He said what went on behind closed doors was not for the public to see or hear.

I have good and bad memories of my childhood like we all do. I had to go pick my own switch off a tree in the yard for mom. Dad used a belt even though my mom would preach to him not to. The only reason she did that is when I was real young, I had a hernia on my neck. I had to have surgery with tubes in my neck. So I would hear mom saying, Don’t hit her any close to that, Walter. I guess because when he was mad and Mom’s whipping did not do it, he felt like he had to put the fear of God in you, as I was told.

One of my dad’s brothers stayed next door to us. He worked for CP&L Light Company as a lineman. He was married with no children. He was a sweet man, always chewing gum from quitting smoking. He had a lot more nice stuff than we did. Dad and he would spend some time together, but not too much. I sometimes wonder if Dad wished he could have given us more because of the way he acted when he was around. Dad had so much pride and never wanted anything from anyone. He believed in your word as your bond. When he shook your hand, you could take it to the bank. I remember when his brother came up the hill to tell Dad his dog was eating his chicken’s eggs. My dad asked which dog and he pointed at my dog. Dad also had coon dogs like his brother for hunting. My dad asked him one question: was he sure? I told him that she would not do that because she does not touch ours. My dad told me to shut up, This is food we are talking about when it comes to eggs. I was crying so hard because I knew what my dad was going to do. He walked my dog to a tree between both our houses. He grabbed her and asked his brother if he was sure. He said yes, I saw her in the yard behind his house walking around. My dad grab her hind legs and beat her head up against the tree till she was dead. He told his bother he was sorry for the loss of eggs. He picked her up take her to the woods and bury her. I was so mad at the both of them for taking my best friend from me. A couple of weeks went by and I found out that one of his hound dogs was getting out and eating the eggs. My dad never apologized for doing that. He said what is done is done, there is no changing the past. I respected him and learned early that life is filled with hard decisions. I believe it hurt him, but