Carrot Cake

Is there any evidence of your ancestors in your daily life? My grandfather, ‘Eddie’ Camp, was a school janitor at James Monroe High in Fredericksburg, Virginia for years. When I wrote my blog piece ‘A Janitor’s Dream’ I wonder if my grandfather’s spirit was standing over my shoulder or sitting next to me as I typed out those words several weeks ago. Hm?
My father, William Henry Camp, was a preacher and a carpenter by trade. I learned a lot from my father and one of the greatest lessons he’d taught me was to always try to help those in need even though you may not have much to give yourself. As a carpenter, my father would build and repair peoples’ porches, out houses, doors, and windows even though sometimes they could not pay him fully upfront as some of his other customers would.
I remember going to this lady’s house one Saturday to help him build a shed for her, and our pay for the day’s work was a chicken dinner with a big piece of her homemade carrot cake because she didn’t have any money for our labor. I’ll never forget that day because it was the first time I’d ever tasted an excellent carrot cake like that, and most importantly, on that particular Saturday, as a twelve year old boy, I learned first hand from my father how to be a gentleman and to treat others as you would want to be treated.
Every day I’m reminded of my forefathers, especially when I’m writing. The themes of most of my stories seem to be about ‘triumph-over-tragedy’ and ‘rooting for the underdogs of society’ type of stories, which are the very things that my father was concerned and preached about at his church in Spotsylvania County so many years ago.
Yes indeed, I’m grateful and able to do what I do today because of the teachings and spirits of my fathers. And by the way, of course, carrot cake is my absolute favorite cake of all still to this day. – Randolph Randy Camp
More at https://www.amazon.com/author/randolphcamp