A Defense of Daddyisms
by Mrs. D. O. Hopkins
Part 1 | Part 2
Part 1
Price Rawlings’ sweet voice trilled through the open window of her room. Passers-by smiled at the sound, but Miss Brining frowned and shook her head. Her years of keeping a boarding house for college girls had made her extra-sensitive to their temperaments. “Something’s the matter with Price,” she murmured. “Something about her voice—I just know it!”
Up in her room, Price sank into a chair and held a photo frame at arm’s length. She shook her head. “It’s no use, Daddy; I can’t accept the invitation with your dear eyes looking at me that way.” She sighed. “Jasmine and Kate will be here in half an hour. So down on your face you go, Daddy and all your ‘isms,’ right here on the windowsill. I’m going to put it all out of my thoughts for a few minutes while I practice. Then, when I think again, maybe I can make up my mind.”
Price seated herself at the keyboard and played an arpeggio. Then, throwing back her head, she set free a perfect riot of runs and trills. Suddenly, she stopped and rushed to the window. “I thought so!” she cried, gazing up at a military jet silhouetted in the sky. Shading her eyes, she watched until it melted into the distance. “I simply must go!”
Since Price had been a toddler, she had been fascinated by airplanes and the men who flew them. And now, for the first time in her life, she had an opportunity to meet real airmen and see their planes. Jasmine and Kate had offered to drop by with their Mustang convertible, on their way to the air base. “The airmen are loads of fun,” they had told her. “Come out to the base. Once they meet you, you’ll have more dates than you’ll know what to do with.”
Price bit her lip. She had made up her mind not to date until she had finished her studies—and “Mr. Right” came along. Still, it would be fun to meet the men who flew the planes. Maybe they’d even let her climb inside an aircraft. She didn’t need to act like Jasmine and Kate, with their miniskirts and flirty giggles.
Of course, there was another little problem. This afternoon she was scheduled to help with the church’s weekly children’s program at the homeless shelter. Just yesterday Mrs. Boone had told her how much the children looked forward to her singing. “They seem to sense how much you love them,” she had said.
Price frowned. “They’ll soon forget their disappointment,” she muttered. “Mrs. Boone was probably just buttering me up, anyway.”
Six "Daddyisms"
A tap sounded at the door. “Can I come in?” Miss Brining called.
Price pulled open the door. “You’re just in time, Miss Brining. I need your advice.”
The older lady smiled. “Choice of breakfast food, color of a new dress, or selection of toothpaste—lay out the problem, dear; I’m ready!”
“I’m serious, Miss Brining.” Price told of the invitation, and how she would like to go, but could not quite feel at peace about it.
“Are Jasmine and Kate special friends of yours?”
“No, just acquaintances from college.”
Miss Brining stood up. “Well, I have a cake in the oven.” Reaching into the deep pocket of her apron, she pulled out the frame Price had placed on the windowsill. “Here’s something I found in the front yard a few minutes ago.”
Price sucked in her breath. “Oh, my ‘Daddyisms’! What if someone else had picked them up? I know them all by heart, but I’d still hate to lose them.” She pointed to the photo in the corner. “That’s my daddy.”
“Sounds mysterious—and interesting. Would you mind sharing them with me?”
“They’re just little nuggets of Daddy’s advice,” Price explained. “There are six ‘Daddyisms,’ as I call them:
“When in doubt—don’t. Instead, do something you know is right.
“Miss Flirt is not worthy of Mr. Trueheart.
“Self-control is true victory.
“Deep souls run in a different channel from the foolish, gossipy shallows.
“The triumph of a life is what really counts, not indulgence of one’s desires.
“Be modest, innocent, sincere. Be different from the crowd.”
“Profound,” Miss Brining nodded. “With them, my advice would be superfluous.” She sniffed the air. “Is my cake burning? Please excuse me, dear.” Her gray head disappeared through the door.
Price patted the frame lovingly, then hung it back over her desk. “Good old Daddy. I can look at you straight now. The airmen shall not be disturbed by me. Instead, I shall teach the children a new song.”
Interested onlooker
Several hours later, a pink-cheeked girl poked her head through the sitting room door at Cunnington Home.
“Ooh-ooh! Here she is! Here’s our singing girl! She said she’d come.” The shout brought a flock of excited children dancing around Price.
“Singin’ gull,” echoed the smallest girl, tense with excitement. She touched Price’s hand with one daring finger. The touch brought tears to Price’s eyes. How could she ever have thought of deserting these precious children?
“Are you ready to sing?” she asked them. “Let’s start with ‘Count Your Blessings.’”
The children responded enthusiastically, filling the dingy room with their singing. None noticed when a lady entered and quietly greeted Mrs. Boone.
“Is that the girl?” she whispered.
Mrs. Boone nodded. “I think I told you she is a freshman at Grace College. She has faithfully come each Thursday afternoon. The children adore her, Mrs. Griggs. Just look!”
“Wonderful voice, sweet face, winning personality, modest clothes,” Mrs. Griggs nodded. “I have a feeling she is just the treasure we need for tonight. Thanks for the referral.” The lady smiled with satisfaction.
At the end of the program, Price lingered a few moments to give each child a hug; then turned to slip away.
“Just a minute, Price,” Mrs. Boone called. “My friend, Mrs. Griggs, would like to meet you.”
Price felt a little lurch of disbelief. Surely this wasn’t the Mrs. Griggs—one of the wealthiest ladies in the state and a well-known patron of the arts. It was the dream of every music major at the college to meet Mrs. Griggs—and here she was, asking for an introduction! It was almost too much to take in!
Mrs. Griggs shook Price’s hand warmly. “Can I give you a lift home?” she asked. “I want to speak with you.”
(Continued in Part 2.)
Part 1 | Part 2
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