The Summer of 1968: The Sacred Sacrifice

By Richard Mabey Jr.

There are moments in our life, which leave a deep mark upon your heart, mind and soul, that they are simply not to be forgotten. Such a sacred moment came on a Saturday morning, in the middle of June of 1968. I was 14 years old and had just completed my freshman year at Boonton High School.

Dad and I were eating breakfast at the kitchen table at the old Mabey Homestead. Mom and my sister, Patti, had left earlier to visit Mom’s mother in Boonton. Dad and I sat at the kitchen table eating Wheaties cereal and sipping hot tea. I remember that we were talking about the big, week-long hike along the Appalachian Trail that was planned for Boy Scout Troop 170, for the next week.

Then, Dad did something a bit unusual. He took the inner bag of Wheaties, from the box and began cutting out the front and back cardboard. Then Dad did something even more unusual. He took one of the pieces of cardboard and laid it flat on the kitchen table, next to his bowl of Wheaties. Then Dad took one of his shoes and traced the bottom of his shoe onto the cardboard with a pencil. Then repeated the process with the other piece of cardboard and his other shoe.

I remember simply asking my father, “Dad, watcha doing?”

Dad then answered me with me with a smile on his face, “I’m tracing my shoes on the cardboard. I got these holes in both my shoes!” Dad then showed me the small holes in his shoes. They were big enough so that Dad could put his forefinger through both of them.

“Dad, why don’t ya’ just go and buy new shoes?” I asked my father.

Dad’s reply deeply moved my heart. “I’m a working man. I’ve got to save my money for you to be able to go to college.” And, in so few words, Dad spoke volumes.

I remember being lost for words. I remember being all so deeply moved. “I see,” was all I could conjure up to say. I never forgot that moment. Now at 69, it sometimes haunts me in my dreams. My father dropped out of high school to join the Army Air Corps during World War II. It was later in life that Dad earned his GED and attended classes at Drew University to become a Lay Leader in the Methodist Church. Despite having had dropped out of high school to serve in the Army Air Corps, my father had an immense respect and love for education. My father was one of the wisest men I have ever known.

Richard Mabey Jr. is a freelance writer. He can be reached at richardmabeyjr@hotmail.com.

Dad and I, on our way to attend a scout meeting of Boy Scout Troop 170.

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