William R. Buckingham - Part 4, The Father I Knew

Dad was not a reader. I do not remember him ever picking up a book. As far as I know he never read a novel, a biography or a history book. Books were expensive and paperbacks did not become plentiful until well after he reached adulthood, so I doubt that there were many books in his home while he was growing up. Mom said he claimed that reading weakened a persons eyes. That was just an excuse. He simple was not into reading - other than consulting reference books. His was not an introspective or contemplative nature.

He was more of a hands on guy, a practical man - the original do-it-yourselfer. The first project I remember him working on was the remodeling of the kitchen on Lafountain Street. I was only five or six, but remember him standing between the floor joists while working on that project. He and another guy moved an inside wall of the house, maybe at the same time. I think the wall was in Don and my bedroom, they moved it over a couple feet, but that memory is very vague. He also did electrical rewiring of houses, both our own and others. Mom said he and Uncle Joe did some original wiring of several older houses in Connersville before they moved to Kokomo. When we bought the “Buckingham Palace” (another story), Dad directed and worked with Don and I in redoing the whole place.

I'm not absolutely certain, but I don’t think Dad believed in God - definitely not the Hereafter. The only occasions he attended churches were at marriages and funerals - mainly funerals. I don’t recall him ever speaking harshly about any religion, place of worship, or holy book. He expressed neither negative nor positive opinions on the subject. I remember him saying only one thing about the “Afterlife”. It was something like, “There is none. You die. Your body rots. That’s it.” The statement might have shocked me had he related the thought when I was at a younger, more tender age, but I was in my mid-twenties by then, and somewhat insulated against such radical ideas. He was the only atheist I ever met that did not seem to be angry about it.

In a way he was satisfied with his level of knowledge and understanding of the world and felt no need to seek anything more. That is not to say something new would not grab his interest. I got an Apple II computer in 1978 and showed Dad a little about it when he visited a couple years later. It was the type of thing that was right up his alley. He played around with it for several days, and could have gotten deeply involved, but computers were still very basic and expensive in those days. I have often thought of Dad as being the last Victorian. This is because he seemed so satisfied and certain with the progress that was taking place in his time. The momentum of the Industrial Revolution reached steam engine force during the Victorian Age and the movers and shakers of that era seemed complacent in their certainty. They knew what was important; they knew what they wanted; and they knew how to get it. Dad was born a few years after Queen Victoria died.

I grew up in a period when, after the war, the American economic engine ran full throttle. Progress and positive attitude seemed to be the rule, and Dad exemplified it. He had a background in math, physics, and chemistry, and he felt confident in that knowledge. He knew what he knew, and he knew a lot… and that was enough for him. Lastly, I think Dad was a would-be adventurer. He and I went up into northern Manitoba fishing in 1964 (another story), and I remember him talking on our drive home. He spoke of life experiences forming the memories we hold on to, and that’s what life was all about. There was a part of him that craved adventure. After college he hoboed/hitch-hiked to California and back on his own. Mom told the story of when he brought some papers for her to sign during the war - while we were living in Connecticut. He wanted to volunteer for a dangerous mission to parachute into occupied France, set up a two-way-radio for members of the French Resistance, show them how to work it, and then find his way out - probably with the help of the Resistance. She would not sign the papers.Brother Don told me once that he thought Dad had a pride in me because I was leading an adventurers life that he would have liked to have experienced. Mom and Dad visited me in Seldovia in 1975 when I was commercial fishing halibut with a friend (yet, another story). Dad was so taken by the place that he applied for a teaching job and almost got it. He wistfully said he wished he had come to Alaska years ago. Mom retorted that he could not have been pried out of Indiana back then.

GO TO: Part 5, The Day Dad Died