May 1, 2008, was the centennial of the birth of my father Matthew Cary Davis, known in Boonville first as M.C. and then as Matt. I’ve written about him in Mid-Lands: A Family Album — in fact, when I looked back at the book, I realized that it is really about him. But that was indirect.

His birth date is ironic on at least three levels. It’s the major Communist/Labor holiday, originally commemorating the workers killed in the Haymarket Massacre in Chicago in the late 19th century. Dad was so far to the right that he could have passed for an anarchist. Later, the Catholic Church appropriated the day as the feast of St. Joseph the Worker to get in on the act. Dad seemed to be one of the least religious people I’ve known — except for his father-in-law, R. J. Murray.

Before either of these celebrations, May Day was a major pagan holiday for Celts and Scandinavians and Walpurgis or Witches Night for the Germans, celebrating the beginning of summer. I don’t think that anyone could realistically imagine Dad dancing around a Maypole (though Mom said that they had their first date at a dance), and though he’d take a drink, he didn’t seem to do so in the Bacchanalian spirit associated with paganism. But for him it may have been a sign of life. When he was in his 70s, he rolled a tractor on himself. My brother arrived, distraught, and found him unconscious. Then Dad opened his eyes and said, “Anybody got a drink?” Everyone decided he was ok.

One word I thought might describe him is “saturnine,” but that means “sluggish in temperament; gloomy; taciturn.” Dad was anything but sluggish; one of his favorite expressions, to me at least, was “While you’re resting, go out and [fill in a long and usually sweaty task].” Nor was he exactly gloomy, although “exuberant” won’t fit either. “Taciturn” means “temperamentally disinclined to talk,” but Dad could talk when he needed to. “Laconic” fits better, since he was as careful with words as he was with money.

To read the rest of the story see BDN's May 9 print edition.