Hey, Dad. It’s been a little more than 10 weeks (72 days to be exact) since you passed. In some ways, that seems like a long time ago. In some ways, it seems like yesterday.
Dan and I have spent virtually all the free time we have the past two weeks preparing for and working the two craft shows you booked before you died: Mound City last weekend and Hannibal, Missouri, this weekend.
To say we’re tired would be an understatement. Managing careers and family with craft shows isn’t for the weak. Fortunately, you left so much stock that we didn’t have to prepare for Mound City beyond packing, driving and setting up. That said, neither of us enjoyed waking up at the wee hours of the morning (I was up at 4:30 a.m. Friday, Saturday and Sunday) to drive to the show.
Draven was a big help Friday. We set the booth up based largely on his memory of helping you at several shows.
The weekend brought back so many memories of traveling with you on these trips. It seemed a lot easier to get up so early and work 10- to 12-hour days back then. Of course, we were small enough to sleep next to the seat by the heater in the old red van as you drove across the Midwest.
It didn’t take long for somebody to ask about you while we were setting up. One of the show organizers came up to both of us and said, “Is this Ernie Webb’s booth?” As I listened while placing purses on the display, Dan explained to the kind gentleman that you passed in August and we decided to work at least this show and the one next week.
“I hadn’t heard that,” he said softly, shaking his head while lowering his eyes. “Boy, that’s too bad. I’ve known Ernie for a long time. He was a good man.”
Moments later, another show official walked over to offer her condolences.
“I’m so sorry to hear about your dad. We are really going to miss him,” she said with tears welling in her eyes. “He was so proud to be our longest running crafter. He went around and told everybody. He was quite the prankster.”
Dan and I looked at each other. We knew you to be many things, including funny, but we never saw you plan a prank on somebody.
“I remember one time I walked into his booth and there was poop in it,” she said. “It was fake dog poop. He got me on that one.”
Countless people asked about you Saturday and Sunday. Time and time again people asked if this was your booth and where you were. Time and time again, people shook their heads, saddened that a man they respected and liked is no longer with us.
Many customers said they’d bought belts, wallets and purses from “The Leather Man” for decades. One said her family had stopped by to see you since she was in diapers. Another said her brother had just been diagnosed with cancer and asked for advice.
Many times during the weekend, I thought about how much we didn’t know about you, from the pranks to your relationship with so many people. That surprised me because you valued your privacy more than anybody I’ve ever met.
The question we were asked the most this weekend is one we don’t have an answer for: “Will you be back next year?” We’d like to continue. We want the legacy of Webb Craft to live on. But as we learned at the Sugar Mound Arts and Crafts Festival, your legacy will last for a long time in the belt loops of work pants, wallets in dress pants and straps of purses on shoulders.
Thank you to the wonderful folks of Mound City for reminding us of that.