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Today would have been my father's 80th birthday.
He was born in the mountains of Western NC in 1925. His parents were mountain folk, who like those around them, looked out for their neighbors, and strangers alike. They didn't have much, but they would gladly give you what they could, a hot meal, some vegitables from the garden, or maybe a quilt that his mother made.
As a young man my father would hunt with his father to put food on the table. They didn't take any pride in killing, it was a means of survival. As an older gentleman, my father had several hunting dogs, a couple red bones, one blue tick, and one bloodhound. He would take my older brother hunting, but if the truth be known, I think that my father just loved taking his dogs in the woods and letting them run, instead of the actual hunt.
He enlisted in the Marines in 1943 to help serve his country, little did he know then that he would make it a 20 year commitment. The next 20 years took him many places and he saw and experienced things that helped shape him into the man that he was in later life. He was one of the most tolerant people I have ever met, regardless of their generation. He would never pass judgement on other people, and always wanted to instill that in his children. His loyalty to his family was like a rock, even when we did something completely stupid, he was always right there for us.
He never had a lot, but he always made sure that we had enough. If he saw a stranger who needed a lift he would stop. His clothes might have been dirty at times, but they were dirty from an honest day's work. Everywhere he went you could see the respect that people had for him, even strangers would see there was something about the way he carried himself.
Happy birthday, we miss you.
He was born in the mountains of Western NC in 1925. His parents were mountain folk, who like those around them, looked out for their neighbors, and strangers alike. They didn't have much, but they would gladly give you what they could, a hot meal, some vegitables from the garden, or maybe a quilt that his mother made.
As a young man my father would hunt with his father to put food on the table. They didn't take any pride in killing, it was a means of survival. As an older gentleman, my father had several hunting dogs, a couple red bones, one blue tick, and one bloodhound. He would take my older brother hunting, but if the truth be known, I think that my father just loved taking his dogs in the woods and letting them run, instead of the actual hunt.
He enlisted in the Marines in 1943 to help serve his country, little did he know then that he would make it a 20 year commitment. The next 20 years took him many places and he saw and experienced things that helped shape him into the man that he was in later life. He was one of the most tolerant people I have ever met, regardless of their generation. He would never pass judgement on other people, and always wanted to instill that in his children. His loyalty to his family was like a rock, even when we did something completely stupid, he was always right there for us.
He never had a lot, but he always made sure that we had enough. If he saw a stranger who needed a lift he would stop. His clothes might have been dirty at times, but they were dirty from an honest day's work. Everywhere he went you could see the respect that people had for him, even strangers would see there was something about the way he carried himself.
Happy birthday, we miss you.
