A Saloonkeeper’s Daughter
Most daughters are proud of their fathers, as they should be. I won’t try to convince you how outstanding mine was. I’ll just tell that it is so. I learned from him all that I know about generosity, people, life, and business. He was unconditional love.
My dad owned a redneck saloon. Saloon or tavern is what he called it. It opened that day in 1933 that Prohibition was repealed. His customers were regular people — farmers, businessmen, family folks, factory workers. The bar sat 60 people easily. You could get a draft beer for 50 cents. Every night, you could get pizza. Every Saturday, you could get fried chicken. Every person who went there thought of my father as a personal friend. The matchbook covers said, “You’re only a stranger, but once.”
My dad had a deal with the sheriff and with his customers. Sometimes he’d throw a drunk into jail at 10pm. Then he’d bail him out and take him to breakfast when the saloon closed in the early morning. One tough guy, named Patrick, was only allowed in the bar one day a year — St. Patrick’s Day. He’d misbehave, get kicked out, and then come back 365 days later. It was their gentlemanly agreement. I don’t know how they came to it. I only know that they did.
Though I wasn’t at the tavern often, I knew the regulars by name. They knew all about me too. How could they not? They had entertained me since I could walk. They had all been at my christening on a 40-acre farm. They got free tickets to every dance recital and graduation. Many of them saw me as their daughter. Most still have the calendar with my picture and a thermometer on it. One lady keeps me in her freezer! It was an extended family that lived at my father’s saloon.
When I got old enough to go to bars, people my age would tell me stories about my dad and buy me drinks in his honor. The toughest guys in town would tell me, “Hey if you ever need a favor . . .”
My Blogging Goal
Anyone who’s been to Successful Blog knows that I am like my father. I even keep snacks and beverages in the sidebar — a reminder that I am a saloonkeeper’s daughter. That’s how the story relates to my blogging goal.
You see, my father didn’t work at the saloon. He lived it. He also earned enough to feed a family and send three kids to school. Somehow in doing that, he managed to make a difference in people’s lives by sharing what he knew and who he was.
My blogging goal is to do the same thing with my blog
that my father did with his saloon.
Thank you, Darren Rowse at Problogger for this Group Writing Project.
Liz Strauss
