Today is Dad's birthday. He would have been 71. I don't spend much time thinking on his final years. They were plagued with the suffering that comes with cancer, losing a 38-year-old daughter, and a retirement that didn't live up to the dream. Instead I like to remember Dad's smile, his Andy Griffith voice and the corny jokes he told, his humble nature and pride for his family, and that good ole country wisdom. Dad used to write a column for the hometown paper. This blog borrows its name, At Random. I have a pile of yellowed newspaper clippings dating from January 1968 to the summer of 1971.
I was missing Dad when I got home today, so I settled myself on the sofa, tuned out Phineas and Ferb and Benjy's singing, and began to read from the stack of columns, one after another. I stopped when I got to this one. I giggled picturing cousin Charlene pulling his leg, and Daddy hemming and hawing around just what he was supposed to say to her. I loved that humility, that realness. Genuine, that's what my dad was.
He was the real deal, true country boy and never forgot it. He could rub shoulders with the "big guys" and come back home and just be a country boy again. Not many people can do that, remember their roots. He never forgot where he came from and was so proud of his heritage. You have those same qualities, little one. I love you and I miss your Daddy. Mom
ReplyDeleteYou are blessed to have the stories that he wrote. I could hear his voice through the story and I am sure they are a comfort to you. Thanks for sharing something so dear to you.
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