The Miss Pie

    Not spoiled as a child or a teen, I nonetheless knew I was a cherished by my daddy. I treasured him as daughters do their daddies. Or should.

    He called me Janie Pie.He was the only one to ever call me a pet name until Coach John Clary called me Margo so that I could learn math without fear.

     Perhaps when Daddy found himself with more time on his hands that he was accustomed to, he decided to build a boat.Not commissioned by God, he still designed and built a family boat. Not a speed boat, not a John-boat, but a high-sided, dark green vessel suitable for cruising Mustin Lake or the Ouachita River.

I do remember riding in it a few times...not much after that...don't even know what happened to it.

I remember hanging out in the garage with Daddy while he hammered and nailed. I wandered around, picking up nails, learning the basics of electricity.

The boat sported a deep green color, green like turnip greens stewing in a pot. That deep, rich color of greens was a close as Daddy ever got to greens unless his own mother made them for him. I don't blame Mother for that refusal.

But he didn't name the boat after her, did he?

What a thrill as I watched him paint on the ship in white script: 

The Miss Pie.