A Father’s Legacy of Labor, Learning and Love

Jesse Thrasher, father of 13, will not go down in the annals of Father’s Day icons. However, he will be remembered as a man who influenced his children to be the best colored people in our society. That’s the term his generation, in the early 20th century, used to respectfully describe African Americans.

Although we grew up in a segregated society that prevented equal access to opportunity, the Thrashers never used race as a crutch. Jesse Thrasher espoused the American dream via the work ethic. By example and hard work, he taught all of us that we had a responsibility to do our best to make something of ourselves.

He was a former sharecropper and a sharecropper’s son who migrated from his native south Georgia to central Ohio in the early 1930s. Denied the opportunity to purchase land in Georgia, he had a burning desire for property to call his own. Rather than settle in a major city, he purchased a 10-acre farm in central Ohio. That was where I and my 12 brothers and sisters were born and raised.

My father passed away when I was 15. He raised us to be self-sufficient, law-abiding citizens, even when elements of society did not dignify our existence. I can remember him saying on many occasions: “Get some property of your own. Get an education, learn your manners and don’t cry prejudice at every indignity you encounter.”

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By example, he used that 10-acre farm to feed his family. We all worked--planting and harvesting, milking cows, butchering hogs and raising pigs and chickens to provide for our needs. My dad also took a job as a laborer at an International Harvester factory, working the 4 p.m. to midnight shift. Between factory and farm, he worked 16 to 18 hours each day.

My father had the equivalent of a third-grade education when he left Georgia, but he always insisted that we listen to our teachers and learn as much as we could. We had to bring our report cards to him and Mom so they could verify our progress. We Thrasher children were always told to mind our manners and never bring disrespect to the family. We were raised in the black Baptist church on the principles of the 10 Commandments.

As the only black family living in small rural community, we suffered daily humiliations and heard the N-word constantly. Yet my dad and mom admonished us that the best way to fight back was to be a superb person.

Of the 13 children, one is a former Learjet pilot, one has a doctorate and heads one of the largest school districts in Ohio, three of us have master’s degrees, three have bachelors degrees, one is a retired career Navy man. All of us have become dedicated mothers and fathers as a testimony to our dad.

I miss my dad not only on Father’s Day, but every day. I wish he were here to see his children and grandchildren live the legacy he left us. He was and is a great father.