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My father at 100Friday, Aug. 17, would have been my father's 100th birthday. I have talked and written about him extensively, as he was the most confusing and contradictory person in my life. He was so hard to love up close, but so colorful and entertaining at a distance. My in-laws adored him--my mother endured him. I may have come the closest of all family members to understanding him for who he was, and yet, like my brothers and sister, we never resolved our issues with him. For those who had a wonderful relationship with their father, I envy you. For those of you who feel I was too critical of him or that I was unfair or disrespectful, let me tell you of my memories of the father I loved, while struggling to endure his moods and meet his expectations. Oren Root lived through one of the most colorful times in Oklahoma history. He was born in Coffeyville, Kan., in 1907 and traveled by covered wagon into Oklahoma Territory when he was a month old. He was the youngest of a rough and tumble family. He spent his childhood summers in the woods with his brothers and he grew up as a student and participant of nature, something he carried with him throughout his life. In my lifetime, he was known as an "aginner," as he was against every new idea. He did, however, get a sparkle in his eye when he talked about grandpa's Model T Ford that was purchased in 1913. He and his brother learned to drive it and were eager to do anything to get access to this new technology. Grandpa couldn't get the hang of the machine, according to dad, so they'd take the team of work horses, hook up to the broken-down car and tow it home, with grandpa sitting on the right side, driving the team with the reins through the rolled out windshield and the boys sitting on the left side steering the marvel of the age. Dad married Marie Pulliam in 1929 and they were immediately hit by the Depression and drought of the 1930s. They had nothing and just managed to survive for the next 11 years while they had three children: Phillip, Jim and Rowena. The stories of the Depression in Oklahoma could hardly be more dramatic, as the cold and heat endured as they sharecropped while living in ramshackle houses. In 1936, according to mom's meticulous record keeping, they had total income of $126. This decade scarred him so much that he never forgot it and always feared a similar time would return. Oren was a Republican and pretty much an agnostic. Marie was a Democrat and a strong-willed Methodist. They argued religion and everything else, at length, as he tried to intellectually overpower her. . . and failed. The church people would come out each year to try to bring him into the fold and he'd welcome them into the living room with the Bible sitting in plain sight. He would ask them if they believed that everything in the Bible was true. When they said: "Yes," they'd made a critical mistake, as he would open the Bible and read them the verses of Luke 19: "Go to the village ahead of you, and as you enter it, you will find a colt tied there which no one has ever ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, 'Why are you untying it?' tell him, 'The Lord needs it.' Those who were sent ahead went and found it just as he had told them. As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, 'Why are you untying the colt?' They replied, 'The Lord needs it.'" At that point he would tell them this was biblical proof that Jesus Christ was a horse thief. As you can imagine, the next hour was an attempt to defend their beliefs, which allowed him to escape their efforts to get him to join the church. My mother was horrified and ashamed, while I became fascinated by his skill at winning an argument, at all costs, and diverting attention from the subject others wished to pursue. He didn't like the tedium of farming and took a job off farm when the first Interstate highway was built. He worked for a Hereford ranch for a few years and spent his last 15 years before retirement as a very unhappy employee of the Oklahoma County Highway Department. I will always remember his anger as he came home, but an hour of farm chores and he'd usually work his way out of it. I was the baby of the family and avoided his wrath--with the help of my mother. I would stand directly in front of him and speak loudly and clearly to get his attention. He had a major hearing loss and always responded positively when I did so. I'm not sure that didn't lead to my career as a broadcaster. He fought with the neighbors. He condemned every politician. He fought with the companies who leased our farm for oil and gas exploration, even though that was the greatest windfall of his life. They owned 160 acres of land and the mineral rights that finally paid off when he was in his 80s. When Oren was 88, Marie died of leukemia. He was angry at her for going first, although he couldn't face his own death. He joined the church later in life, just as a hedge that there might be a God and hell. At age 92 he was tired of living. He drove around the area every day and never wore a seatbelt. Late one evening he drove off the road, rolled his vehicle, struck his head and never woke up. The whole community came to his funeral. I gave a eulogy of his life and talked about who he was and the era in which he lived. We cried; we laughed; we thanked him for providing for us in our youth and endowing us with his long-lived genetics. Now, eight years after his death, I still think of him a lot. I remember his stories and his actions. I catch myself walking like him, wearing my hat like him, even having the same facial expressions and physical quirks. I want to embrace all the best parts of him, but realize that I may never understand why he was so prickly up close, so quick to show his power, say no and resist change, even if it was for his own good. Editor's note: Ken Root is now celebrating his 34th year as an agricultural professional. His career began as a vocational agriculture teacher then turned to agricultural broadcasting and writing as well as environmental consulting and association management. He was the original host of AgriTalk (1994-2001) and now is lead farm broadcaster for WHO Radio in Des Moines, Iowa.
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