By JB Lester
June is the month of Father’s Day, and I was thinking about my dad Charles “Chuck” Norton Lester. He passed away in 1971 from a heart attack while on a fishing trip with his buddies. At least he died doing something he loved. He was 47 years old. I was trekking around Europe when he died and knew nothing of his passing. There were no cell phones or any way to get a hold of me at the time. When I returned home, he was dead and buried. My mom and dad had been divorced for years, and I didn’t see him as much as I should have. The last time I saw him was right before I left for Europe. He gave me a few bucks for the trip. He smiled and told me to have a good time. That was the last smile I would ever get.
Growing up, my dad was larger than life. Standing over 6 feet tall and weighing more than he should, Chuck was liked by all. He had the personality of a salesman. So, he excelled in sales. He loved to barbecue, and I can still remember him with his squirt bottle shooting the flaming coals under his famous barbecued chicken. He also loved his beer. He told us kids it was “bad sodie.” He also loved his smokes. It was this combination of alcohol and tobacco that led to his heart disease and eventually his demise.
Chuck was a loving dad when I was little. He announced little league baseball games for my brother in the small town of Bethany, Missouri. He called my sister Sugarboat. He wrestled with us and tied our ties when it was time for Sunday school. He loved the outdoors and took us on many float trips and Sunday car drives. He had a sharp wit, and a flat top haircut. He loved to work with wood and helped me with models. He also liked to clean the basement and garage, tasks us boys had to help with if we wanted to go off on the weekends with our friends.
Chuck served in WWII in a tank battalion in the South Pacific. He got a purple heart and often showed us kids the scars from shrapnel in his leg and neck. I thought of my dad when I watched the movie starring Jackie Gleason called Papa’s Delicate Condition. The film was about a benevolent drunk father who everyone loved but his alcoholism led to problems with his family and his life. I wonder now if my dad had PTSD from the war. There was no diagnosis back then of this disorder. I suspect it led to his drinking.
My mom and dad stayed connected in some way until his end. I know they still loved each other. He was loved by many. A good soul. So much to overcome and yet he tried at times. He went to AA. He loved his family, and we loved him. I know I am a better father today because of my dad and the love we shared. I am a better person also for learning about his struggles and accepting him for who he was. So, we remember Chuck on this Father’s Day. He was larger than life, even though his life was way too short.