Clyde’s Corner: Hardworking and caring, my dad was the best!

by Clyde Whitaker

Hello again everyone! I just want to thank those who tell me how much you enjoy reading my stories. It is very humbling, and I really appreciate the feedback. I am so lucky to be able to write a monthly column for the Stockbridge Community News and share some of my memories with you. If you get bored, just let me know!

My dad, Jim Whitaker, was a major influence in my life. He demonstrated for me what a work ethic was: up early every morning, never taking a sick day off, never complaining, and teaching me how to treat others fairly and with respect. He was born July 22, 1914, in Alger, Ohio, to Morgan and Molly Whitaker.

I was lucky in my youth to be able to work with my dad every day on the farm in the summertime, usually until the start of the new school year in September. There are many, many stories I could share about my dad, but the one that comes to mind right now occurred in 1973 during my varsity basketball season.

Dad worked long hours on the Krummrey Farm, usually 7 a.m. until 6 p.m., Monday thru Friday, with a half day on Saturday. With those hours, my dad was not able to see me participate in sports very often—really only a couple of times—but he always encouraged me and told me to play my best.

One winter night in 1973, Stockbridge played Perry at Perry in a league basketball game. Driving up on the bus, I must have become carsick, because my stomach felt upset and I was nauseous. This feeling persisted even after arriving at Perry and warming up on the court.

I went to Coach Hora and told him I felt sick. He instructed me to sit at the end of the bench, which I did. The game started, and it was quite physical. Immediately Tom Kennedy and Pete Mikelonis got into foul trouble in the first quarter. Coach Hora looked down at me and said, “Whitaker!” Well, I sprang off that bench and reported into the game, no longer feeling sick at all.

I don’t know what it was, it was almost magical, but every shot I took went in, and every rebound was mine. When I fouled out in the fourth quarter, my stats were 28 points and 24 rebounds! Coach Hora told me to be sick more often (LOL!). As we headed back to the locker room after the game, I glanced up into the stands and there he stood. My dad! I never even knew he was at the game!

I flashed a smile and gave him a wave; he smiled and waved back at me. I still remember that moment we shared 50 years ago, my dad and I. His presence must have been why that game felt magical, as though something was in the air.

Thank you, Dad, for always being there for advice and showing me how to be a man. He’s been gone since 2003, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about my dad. The last time I saw him, his last words to me were, “You’re a pretty good boy,” and I responded with, “You’re a pretty good dad.”

Clyde Whitaker is a 1973 Stockbridge graduate. He and his wife, Mary, raised four children in Stockbridge, and they still reside in the Stockbridge area.

All photos provided by Clyde Whitaker

Three generations of Whitakers: A younger Clyde Whitaker, holding his son Aaron, with Clyde’s dad Jim, seated at right.

Clyde Whitaker, right, with his dad Jim Whitaker.

Jim Whitaker, father of columnist Clyde Whitaker, during his younger years.