Letters to Dad – David

Posted On August 26, 2008 | Filed Under Family

John Poffenberger, John P, JP, Old Man, Puffy, Little Brown Jug, Johnny, John, Grandpa, Great Grandpa and Dad. For those that knew him, these are at least some of the names we called John Poffenberger. Personally, I called him dad.

Many of you knew him based on the phase of life he was in. Some knew him with his broken body, many knew him as a hard working and honorable man, some knew him as the guy driving down the country road honking and waving at a stranger as if he knew them…and leaving the person behind waving at some guy for whom they had no clue who he was, but he left them smiling.

I knew him as dad. He expressed genuine love for his children. Now it may have came in the form of a thump on the head, pulling the hair on your leg or the infamous finger poke to the chest. I have no idea how my chest could nearly collapse and yet his finger stayed rigid and ready to strike should you act like it did not hurt. A second strike was rarely necessary as it really did hurt!

He was a good dad and a good grandfather. He pushed me personally to success. When I was a young boy he allowed me to help him lay floor covering. In retrospect, I believe that he was more interested in me keeping occupied moving heavy boxes tile around than letting me help. I am sure all I really did was get in the way. But with his encouragement, when the job was done, I was pretty sure that most of it was a result of me helping him.

Even as an adult, he pushed me along. Periodically he and his Dana truck would show up at one of the warehouses that I managed. When this happened I generally would have a befuddled security guard calling to say some big truck with a short fat guy (although he argued that his stomach was actually an overgrown muscle) was trying to run the gate. Dad measured his kid’s success differently than most. His definition of my success was based on the number of dock doors in the warehouse I was running. Oddly enough, that was usually one of he first things I look for even today. And of course while he was at my warehouse – - doing my job – - everyone there knew he was my dad, he was proud of #1 (me) and as his Dana truck rumbled out of the parking lot, he left all knowing they had a friend.

My mom was the love of his life. Their love was genuine and he deeply cared for her. He made a special effort each year to get her something special at Christmas. Even though every year they agreed not to buy for each other – and you could tell he was excited to see her open the gift and of course to argue a bit about it. They were all league all-stars when it came to a loving argument.

His grandchildren were his passion. He was incredibly proud of each one of them and would show pictures of them to everyone that dared get near him. He loved going to their sporting events and even late in life would plan weeks in advance to see them perform. Almost every conversation we had started with “how’s Kelsie”, where’s Ryan and “how’s that baby” clearly wanting to know how my 2 year old daughter was doing. They are doing great dad. And you know something really cool happened the day dad died, Grace the 2 year old who had never even uttered the word grandpa started saying Grandpa – now she says it all the time.

So now he is gone from us physically, but lasting memories are vivid for all he touched. His ready smile lives on inside his family, even if it did gross out an occasional grandchild when he did not have his teeth in The memories of John Poffenberger, John P, JP, Old Man, Puffy, Little Brown Jug, Johnny, John, Grandpa, Great Grandpa and Dad burn bright. He is missed, but he and his love live on inside each of us.