Tale #1: Passing Through

Tale #2: Two Dreams

Tale #3: Granddaddy & Me

Tale #4: Three Days at Sunset

Tale #5: My Father's Promise
Two Dreams & Other Tales

Tale #2: Two Dreams
(excerpt)

The First Dream
Atlanta, 1955-1999

  As far back as I can remember, my father was a dreamer. Though grateful for the good things that came his way, he never stopped setting new goals and devising plans to reach them. I've often thought he would have loved climbing mountains, if he knew how, at least until he conquered Everest. In the business world, they call people like him "entrepreneurs." I like the word "dreamer" better. While Dad doggedly pursued many challenges in his lifetime, two particular dreams meant more to him than any other. The first was born in the most unlikely of places.

  For eight years, my father served in the US Army as a cook. In the military, this is not a profession that gains one a lot of glory, but as Napoleon once said, an army marches on its stomach. If you don't feed the troops, they don't fight. So, my father and his colleagues were important players in a very important enterprise. Though America saw no significant combat during those years, Dad still learned a lot about the logistics of providing rations to fighting men in the field. His primary education, however, was learning how an Army mess hall operates. One commonly hears about privates peeling potatoes and servers dishing out "mystery meat" and other unappetizing fare on a serving line, but that is mostly stereotype. My father and his mates learned the basics of supply and requisition, dietary and nutritional requirements, balanced menu planning, preparing and serving meals for large numbers of men and women, and maintaining a clean and sanitary facility. He took great pride in doing the job well and respected the non-comms who devoted entire careers to this calling. Amidst all that, Dad discovered his first glorious dream. He looked forward to post-military life when he planned on being the proprietor of a hugely popular fine dining establishment where everyone knew and respected the name Thomas Kemp.

  When Dad mustered out of the Army in 1963, he hit the ground running. Within a year and a half, he had married his longtime sweetheart, Alice Pennington, and fathered his first and only child--my name is Noah. My father lost both of his parents while he was in the Army and his only sibling, an estranged sister, lived on the West Coast. That made Mom and me his only close family. My parents had known each other as children in Atlanta and became reacquainted when Dad was stationed at Fort Benning. Not wanting to drag her around the country with him, he decided to finish his second hitch, return to civilian life, and then marry her. As part of his plea for her hand, he shared his dream with her so she would know he had prospects.

  It was a couple of months before my birth when my father opened his small restaurant. It was July 1964, and he called his new place The Crossroads. The name was geographical, as the restaurant sat at the intersection of Stratford and Claymore Avenues on the outskirts of Atlanta. While these were well-traveled thoroughfares, the real estate in that area was undeveloped both commercially and residentially. To a businessman thinking in the short term, this wouldn't seem like a suitable location for a restaurant, at least not if one wanted it to succeed. However, my father rarely thought in the short term.

Text Copyright, G. S. Treakle, 2023