Today would have been my father’s 90th birthday. Happy Heavenly Birthday, Dad! I miss you so much. Your quiet strength, good heart, and the way you loved us and our mother.
My father grew up on a farm in southern Arkansas, picking cotton as soon as he could drag a bag behind him. As one of nineteen children, he had a hard life and didn’t have much money. He played football for the Gurdon GoDevils alongside his brothers, cousins, and friends.
At 17, he joined the US Air Force and left home to see the world, from Spokane, Washington, where he met my mother, to Montana, California, and Texas, not to mention exotic places like Guam, Okinawa, and Thailand.
When he retired from the Air Force, he came home to Arkansas, had his forty acres in the country, and worked for the US Postal Service. He had a good, full life.
He was a quiet man with a very dry sense of humor, and he would do anything for his family. He’s the man I measure all men by.
Love you so much, Dad!
