A tribute to my dad, Charles Moore

This past Saturday, my dad, Charles Moore, turned eighty-five. We celebrated the night before at a steak house in Mankato. We’ll continue to celebrate this Saturday when my extended family gathers at our home in Blaine.

Turning 85 is quite an accomplishment. Just as I did for my mom when she turned 85, (chainlink-chainoflakesncd.blogspot.com/2024/01/) it seems only right and really it is a privilege for me to write a tribute to my Dad.

It’s an accomplishment to turn 85. I did a Google search to discover how many people born in 1940 are still alive today. Numbers vary, but one site shared that only 56 percent of the 2.3 million Americans born in 1940 are still alive today.

My dad was born in Estherville, Iowa and grew up on a farm as the youngest of six. His brothers enjoyed the farm life; my dad didn’t. He regaled my sister and I when we were growing up of how much he disliked “walking beans.” And if you don’t know what “walking beans” is do a search. I’m guessing that a hundred percent of people born in Iowa in 1940 know or knew about “walking beans.” He escaped the work on the farm by helping his mother, Dorothy, in the kitchen. My Dad learned how to cook and many years later became the primary cook in our household.

He also excelled as a student. Perhaps it was “walking to a one-room school house uphill both ways,” a tale he would occasionally share, that gave him a desire to learn. He and his good friend Del Matheson finished at the top of their high school class in Ringsted, Iowa.

He went to Mankato State. And shortly after that he met my mom. Their first date was a movie on a very cold night in January. His life was changed forever. He majored in English, married my mom on August 5, 1961 and went to teach at Paullina High School in northwest Iowa.

I was born in 1964—and we’ve never let him forget that when my mom went into labor he drove her to a nursing home and not a hospital. We moved to Worthington shortly after I was born where he taught English at Worthington Junior College. My sister arrived the next year, and we began our life as a family.

Our life was not that complicated. We moved to our home on Summit Avenue in Worthington in 1970 and established our life. We knew everyone on our street, went to church on Sunday, played baseball on the vacant lot (at least I did), ate a meal as a family every evening, and lived a wonderful life in small town America.

My dad became bored with teaching, so took a sabbatical and went to work for Cross-Lines, a social service agency in inner city Kansas City. Not everyone was convinced that my parents should take my sister and I to live near “the projects.” But they did. And all four of us are better for experience. We lived among people who were poor, I attended a school where I shared a classroom with people from many different races, we had to lock our home each night, saw garbage in the alleys, and lived within a half mile of two “projects.” I loved the experience. My call to ministry began when I saw poverty for the first time. This never would have happened without my dad taking a sabbatical.

He was very committed to supporting my sister and I in all of our activities. I decided to become serious about playing the violin in 8^th grade. He was willing to drive me to violin lessons in Sioux Falls, South Dakota every week and even to the Cities for lessons when I was much older. He was willing to be woke up on most mornings when I practiced the violin. He never missed any event that my sister and I participated. He and my mom always showed up. Even when I played football for Carleton college, he and my mom drove to every-single-game, no matter what the location.

He and my mom were very devoted to Westminster Presbyterian Church. Even when the church fired their good friend Bob Burnett my parents decided to stay with the church. This event was a defining moment for my family. Imagine what you would do if your faith community fired one of your best friends for reasons you completely disagreed. In my mind this was a significant display of loyalty to a group who had broken their heart. I share this story with all new people who join Chain of Lakes Church. I encourage them to hang with Chain of Lakes even if life gets hard. They never know how they will be rewarded for their loyalty.

My sister and I each chose to go into the ministry. And each of us were ordained to be pastors in the sanctuary of Westminster Presbyterian Church. My sister was married in that sanctuary. Bob Burnett preached at my ordination service. These were highlights of our family’s life. Our family would have never enjoyed these significant celebrations if my parents had left the church broke their hearts.

Faith has always been important to my dad. It matters to him how a person thinks about God. He taught Adult Sunday School at Westminster for a very long time. He always challenged my sister and I to know what we believed. He would not have tolerated an insipid faith.

My dad was able to retire from teaching at the age of 58. And he has had a terrific retirement. Traveling to many countries, square dancing in many states, caring for his grandkids and now his great-granddaughter, Elouise. He had the time to do all of this.

The greatest quality of my dad is his devotion and love for my mom. They were and are so close. They rarely did things by themselves—it seemed they did everything together. For better or worse, I never remember them arguing in front of my sister and me. They always resolved their arguments behind closed doors. And now with both them closer to ninety than eighty and with their bodies breaking down, they still care for each other to the best of their ability.

You made it to 85, Dad! Congratulations! You’ve had a blessed life—you’ve told us that often. One of my greatest privileges is to be your son. To use a phrase that would received a red mark if it had been used on a paper in your English class, “You done good, dad!” Happy Birthday!