His Giving Spirit

Daisy Parker
Focal point: person


His Giving Spirit

If ever there was a man that had the “giving spirit” of Santa Claus, it was my daddy. He fits the description of Santa Claus perfectly (except for the snow white beard) in the poem T’was the Night Before Christmas. For over 25 years, he loved being Santa at all the Christmas events for our small town. The happiness he brought to children and adults wasn’t only at Christmas, it continued year round.

In the 50’s, 60’s, and 70’s times were hard, and Daddy had to teach school, coach football, and sell insurance to support our family. Even with this much responsibility, he found time to volunteer. I can still remember Daddy’s bold voice on that old CB radio, “K-O-M-5-2-3-3 mobile to base. Can you copy?” These old radios were the only means of communication when he helped form the Berkeley County Rescue Squad in 1966. Because of the dedication of my daddy and many other fine men, hundreds of people have been rescued when the waters of our lakes turned violent.

I still marvel how Daddy poured his heart and soul into his coaching. His four year football scholarship to Furman gave him the skills he needed to develop fabulous football teams. He was a tough coach, but he was loved and respected by his players. The school couldn’t afford a blocking sled, so Daddy would sit and mash the brakes of his old 1950 ford while the football team pushed that car all over the field. This wasn’t the best thing for the car, but he had some very strong football players! Clean uniforms were important, but the school didn’t have a washer and a dryer. Daddy would bring those smelly, sweaty uniforms to our house and wash them. He even had to build bleachers for the fans. Whatever was needed, he did it!

Daddy shared his time and talents with many people, but he was still my daddy.

Being the only girl with three brothers, I was “Daddy's Little Girl”. Never in my entire life did I ever doubt his love for me. I remember he bought me the cutest red pony cart. We had one major problem. My pony was so small that we couldn’t find a harness small enough to fit him. Daddy went to the hardware store and bought some leather straps. Placing my pony between the bars of the pony cart, he said, “Daisy Margaret, hold that pony still while I measure him.” I talked to my pony and made him stand perfectly still while Daddy used his sharp knife to cut the leather straps. Then we were off to the shoe shop. Daddy showed the man at the shoe shop exactly where he needed to sew. In no time, my pony was pulling my friends and me all over the neighborhood.

Then in 1988, tragedy struck our family. While we were in Clio at my Uncle Frankie’s funeral (my daddy’s older brother) our house caught fire and burned. My poor Daddy buried his brother and lost his home and business in that one day. Our home, with its Southern hospitality, always welcomed family, friends, and customers. Daddy’s goal was providing honest service at anytime. A few days after the fire, in spite of his own troubles, he was sitting at a card table in the backyard helping customers.

Our house was rebuilt on the same lot, but his insurance office was moved to another location. Life got back to normal for our family. This was a great time in Daddy’s life because he was working only one job which gave him more time for fishing, hunting, volunteering, cooking, and spending time with his grandchildren!

There was always something delicious cooking at our house! Daddy was a fantastic cook. He won a National Catfish Stew contest, but his favorite food to cook was barbeque. His “old-timey” Hamer Barbeques thrilled everyone. The men sat around the campfire talking, laughing, and shoveling hot coals into the open pit all night as they slowly cooked the pigs. Early in the morning everyone was busy chopping meat and mixing it with that “special” sauce. By noon there would be over 200 people at the Hamer house to enjoy the food, fun, and fellowship.

Now my daddy loved people, but here was no one on this earth that he loved more than my mother. He loved telling stories. His favorite story was the day he fell in love with my mother. He’d get that precious grin on his face as he would say,
“Sit down here and let me tell you about the day I fell in love with Vonnie. It was the summer before my senior year in college. I needed money. My job was sweepin’ floors at the mill in Greenville. One day as I was sweepin’ up the floors, I happened to look out the window and I saw the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. Then I turned to the man working beside me and told him to shake my hand. I want you to be the first man to congratulate me because I’m getting married! See that gorgeous girl. That’s the girl I’m going to marry.”

Daddy was known for dating a different girl every week, but from the moment he saw his beautiful Vonnie, he only had eyes for her. After graduation, he married my mother (she was only 17). Their marriage had the passion of newlyweds for 54 years. Mother died seven years before Daddy, and during these difficult years, his love and devotion was just as faithful to her as it was the first moment he saw her.

After mother’s death, Daddy spent most of his free time at the hunting club. I know he enjoyed the hunting, but the fellowship with all the hunters helped to fill up some very lonely days. He started a Christmas tradition for all the hunters and their families. Daddy had the best time shopping and wrapping gifts for everyone. Instead of a sleigh, he would fill up the back of his 1991 blue and white truck and haul all the presents to the hunting club. He made sure he wore his red Santa hat as he passed out hundreds of gifts.

One year he sewed these huge deer antlers on his Santa hat. As he was passing out gifts, Daddy said, “Bubba, What’s the biggest buck you’ve ever seen at this huntin’ club?”
“I think it was about 220 pounds,” Bubba replied.
“Nope,” my daddy said, “I weigh 260 pounds. I’m the biggest buck you’ve ever seen at this huntin’ club!” Daddy loved a good time!

The next year, Daddy was preparing another big Christmas when he got very sick and had to go into the hospital. He knew that he might not make it out of the hospital this time. He made me promise to take all the gifts to his friends. A week after my daddy died, I kept my promise. Wearing his Santa hat, I drove his old blue and white truck overflowing with gifts to the hunting club. I really believe that this day was harder than his funeral. Every heart was breaking. The tears of love were in everyone’s eyes as they accepted the last gift they would ever receive from my daddy.

During his 85 years on earth, God blessed Daddy with many gifts. “Loving” and “giving” were at the top of the list. So whenever you see Santa Claus, I want you to remember that there once lived a man that had the same “giving spirit” that Santa Claus represents. I know this is true because that man was my daddy, Ralph Hamer!