On Tuesday I wrote about my grandfather Samuel T. DeMoss.  Today I am going to write about his son, and my dad, Samuel T. DeMoss Jr.  For most of my dad’s life everyone called him Tom.  I was told this was to avoid confusion between him and his dad, and it’s not an uncommon practice for sons to go by their middle names.  It was in the last decade or so of his life that some called him Sam.  Because most of the people who will read this knew him as Tom, that’s how I will refer to him here.

Tom was born to Samuel and Edeine DeMoss on July 5, 1943 at the hospital in Linton, IN.  He grew up in the Edwardsport area with two brothers, John and Jim, and a sister Sandy.  My dad didn’t talk much about his childhood.  His dad died when he was 12 and I can’t imagine what that would be like for a boy that age.  He did talk fondly about working for Mr. Huey on his farm after school with Uncle John.   It was evident that Mr. Huey was a huge influence on my dad during those teenage years.  Dad attended and graduated from Sandborn High School in 1961, even making the honor roll while he was there.

After high school Dad joined the US Marine Corps.  He was assigned to the 1^st Marine Division, Platoon 206 stationed out of Camp Pendleton in San Diego.  I know very little of his time in time in the military.  We have a few pictures he took during that time, including one of Mt. Fuji.  He never told us what he did only that he was a sergeant (E5) when he got out.

After the Marines, he returned to Knox County and got a job driving a delivery truck.  I believe Mom had mentioned he delivered bread and baked goods, like for Wonder Bread.  He met my mom, Phyllis Keller, who was a classmate of his sister Sandy at the local business college.  On June 24, 1967, Phyllis and Tom were married at St. John’s Catholic Church in Vincennes.  They rented a house just off Main and 14^th Street until they bought the house on the corner of 14^th and Perry Streets the following year.  Dad went to work for Dick Siefert making kitchen counter tops.  Dick was actually a CPA and Mom’s boss, but he somehow acquired a counter top making business and needed someone to do the work.

Over the next few years, Tom and Phyllis had four daughters, more than doubled the size of the house, and bought the counter top business from Dick’s widow.  The business was moved to a lot on the corner of 11^th and Hart Streets next to the railroad tracks.  For the most part, most of the construction on the house and the business building was done by Mom and Dad with help from the neighbors—Jack & Debbie, Carol & Rick, Danny & Kathy, and later on, Jim & Lynn.  Dad was a likeable guy who got along with everyone.  He’d have a beer with one of the guys after work talking across the fence, and cookouts on the weekends were common amongst the group.  As a group they never hesitated to chip in and help the others with a project or a problem.  It was an awesome environment to grow up in.

In the fall of 1976, while out digging dirt, Dad had a mild heart attack which left him in the hospital for two weeks.  He refused to give up smoking completely and switched from 1+ pack a day habit to a pipe.

Dad was a good cook.  He said his mom had taught him how.  On Sundays he’d come home from 7AM Mass and start cooking the noon meal which we called dinner.  It usually took him most of the morning because he’d have the little TV in the kitchen set to Channel 4 out of Indianapolis that shows old war movies .  Most of what he cooked consisted of fried meat, potatoes and a canned vegetable, usually corn, peas or green beans.  He had a few other regular dishes, but whatever he cooked was always good.

The business did well for several years.  Mom and Dad put in a pool in the early 1980s and in the summer our house was party central.  Things slowed at the “shop” and Mom took a bookkeeping job with a charter bus company to help make ends meet.  Dad later would drive buses part-time for extra money.  Sometime around 1983 or so, they decided they wanted to live out in the country and bought 10 acres of wooded land a couple miles south of the Big Peach.  There was a trailer on the property which they demolished and built a house in its place, complete with a full basement.  It took them seven years and countless cases of beer, but they built the house completely themselves, finishing it in 1990.

By the mid to late 1980s, business at the shop had slowed and Dad was tired of running his own business.  He took a job with Knox County Association for Retarded Citizens as their woodshop supervisor.  He spent his time making assembly line furniture while overseeing the work of the mentally challenged client workers.  In 1988, Mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, but Dad was right there beside her the whole time.

In the midst of everything else, Mom and Dad both enjoyed wood working and accumulated a variety of work working tools including a lathe, planer and various routers.  They made the kitchen cabinets in the house they built as well as some of the furniture.  They were always coming up with projects of things to make.

Dad enjoyed his time driving the charter bus groups.  One night in particular, he was driving a group of senior citizens through Daviess County when a tire bounced out of the bed of a pickup truck on the highway in front of him.  The tire bounced up and shattered the windshield, narrowly missing him.  Mom had just started her nightly IV of nutrients when we got the call from the Sheriff’s office.  She disconnected and we drove to the hospital to pick him up.  Mom was so scared she almost lost him.

Over the next couple years, they married off a couple daughters and saw another one move halfway across the country for school.  In the fall of 1992, Mom’s cancer returned and we lost her on March 22, 1993.  Dad seemed a little lost which was understandable under the circumstances.  While he tried dating, it was obvious he still missed her.

Another daughter married off and a couple grandbabies came along.  Dad had taken cigarettes back up when Mom got sick the last time, and they were catching up with him.  He was diagnosed with asthma and needed to do breathing treatments periodically to clear his lungs.  One November night in 1997 he was having trouble breathing and Brenda reminded him to do his treatment.  She went to town to pick up a pizza at Bobe’s, leaving a friend at the house with Dad.  When she returned less than an hour later, she couldn’t make it up the driveway for all the emergency vehicles.  Dad had had a breathing attack and collapsed.  After several non-responsive days, he finally called it quits and went to join Mom on November 6, 1997.  My sisters and I thought it would be fitting to have him buried on Veterans’ Day, however that would have required the cemetery workers to work on a paid holiday.  Instead, we opted for the day before which happened to be Jane’s birthday.  It was done exactly how he wanted it, complete with a 21 gun salute.  Old friends and family we had never met paid their respects to the man we called Dad.

I’m pretty sure I speak for all four of us when I say we miss you, Dad.  We have missed having you, and Mom, share in so many parts of our lives and those of our families.  Just know that we would not be the women we are today without having had your guidance.  You taught us how to be strong, and when things get difficult, how to get back up and keep going.  We all think of you daily and love you with all our hearts.