A Bit of a Birthday Tribute

" Oh, my pa-pa, so funny, so adorable
Always the clown so funny in his way
Oh, my pa-pa, to me he was so wonderful
Deep in my heart, I miss him so today"
"Oh mein Papa" is a German song about a beloved clown father, written by Swiss composer Paul Burkhard in 1939. It was a #1 Billboard hit for Eddie Fisher in 1954. Connie Francis recorded a popular version of the tune in the early 60's.
Dad (Louis Lavern Lynam) was born ninety-three years ago today. There's no date on the above picture of him with his parents, Bessie and George Lynam, but I would guess him around seven years of age. (And wasn't Grandpa George a good-looking young man?) Louis was born south of Corning only a couple miles from where he and Mom would later live their entire married lives. The family moved to the Highland Church & School area west and north of Corning while Louis was still little. He always talked so fondly of "Uncle Jim's place". (Uncle Jim was George's uncle James - a brother of George's father, Barney.) Life-long friendships between Louis and some of the neighbor boys - Edward Hoyt & the Willet's - were formed at Highland School before Dad's family moved to Taylor County and he graduated 8th grade from Spaulding School.
Because of his physical pain and depression in later years, we sometimes forget what a clown he could be. He did joke around a lot and liked to play pranks on and with some of his buddies. I remember the time he and Earl Goldsmith "appropriated" a seed corn sign of a full-sized, good looking blond woman dressed a-la Daisy from the Dukes of Hazzard just so they could have their pictures taken with it. (Whatever happened to that sign?)
Wayne Moore was another of his good friends with a wry sense of humor. I'm sure what one couldn't think of, the other one could. The brothers Kapple, Art & Roy, were life-long friends from the Spaulding era and later, area neighbors in Jasper Twp.
More of my memories of Dad are negative than positive - I don't remember him being very demonstratively loving - but I do have one vivid memory of a time I knew he cared about me. The tractor and manure spreader was parked between the chicken house and corn crib so the hen house could be cleaned out. When it was done and Dad was ready to spread the manure on the field, I wanted to go with him so I clambered on behind and was holding onto the seat of the tractor. When he started up, I slipped and fell to the ground. By the time he realized I was there and had fallen, he thought the wheels had run over me. Of course I was screaming bloody murder and crying - more because I was scared than hurt. He picked me up and carried me to the house. When Mom told this story in later years, she related how devastated Dad was because he thought I was seriously injured. Ah-h, see, he did care.


When Louis died, May 24, 1978, he had just celebrated his 61st birthday. His oldest grandchild, Douglas, would be sixteen in August; the youngest living, Christine, wouldn't be two until September. And his very youngest, Ian, wouldn't even be born for another five years. The above picture of Louis was taken when he was two years, one month old. The picture of Ian was taken on his second birthday.
From the time he was little, Mom and I could always see the resemblance of Ian to his grandfather. Ron and I have noted it as Ian has gotten older although others in the family don't see it. Not that it matters greatly, but it does seem nice to me that someone in the family looks like the patriarch even if he never knew him.
I understand why, when families get together, they talk about the 'good old days' and tell stories about their moms and dads - because when they are gone, and the oldest grandchildren are gone, the moms and dads will be truly dead. They will be faded photographs and a name and date on the family tree.
"Oh, my pa-pa, to me he was so wonderful
Oh, my pa-pa, to me he was so good...."
(Happy Birthday, Dad)