DAD
In 1987 Christine Donaldson Grover wrote her memories of her father,
James Rowan Donaldson
I remember Dad as having dark curly hair. I always loved him so much. He let me go down to his store and stay with him all day long. He ordered some ice cream to sell at the store, but on its journey to Hachita, salt got into the ice cream and Clifford and I tried to eat it. That great big freezer just couldn’t go to waste. I can still remember the rock salt on my tongue. I imagine this was very devastating to Dad.
I didn’t want to go to school so Dad didn’t make me. Consequently, I was seven years old when I started the first grade.
He rode horses and always had a water bag on the saddle. I loved drinking out of it. He would let me.
When we lived on the Homestead, he would travel by train to El Paso and the chimney would rattle when the wind blew and I would be so lonesome for him. To this very day, when I hear a lonesome train whistle especially off in the distance I think of my Dad.
I remember a Mexican girl my age living next door but Dad refused to ever let me play with her.
One day I got a sliver under my finger nail. It festered but I wouldn’t let Dad pull it out. Finally it was rotting my finger and my nail was coming off. Then I let Dad take it out. Today I have a ribbed nail; my own fault.
When we left for Utah I was eight years old. That was the last time I saw my father.
When we came to Utah, he wrote to me and sent me a dollar. I always appreciated having some change through the years. A dollar went a long way those days.
I missed him and my brothers for a long time. Too bad we had to be raised apart. But I feel it was for the best. I have learned so many things and have a very happy life.
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