Daddy was a born salesman, who enjoyed people. Like most men of his generation, he loved cars, and he sold Fords at White County Motor Company for years. In spite of what they say about car salesmen, his honesty and fair dealing brought folks back when it was time to trade vehicles.
We weren’t monetarily rich, but our home was a place of love and fun. He and my mother had a knack for making the smallest occasion a celebration. If Will and I were involved in an activity, he showed up—yes even for those dreaded dance recitals.
He never lost his love for farming and had a nice garden after he retired. He considered it fun to plow his sister’s soy beans—until the tractor turned over on him. Fortunately, he was quick and managed to jump free except for one leg that got pinned beneath it.
He walked away from that accident and from farming because of a recurring nightmare of the event. But until the day he died, he grew the best tomatoes in Arkansas, which he graciously shared. I wish I had one today.
Come to think of it, I was doubly blessed. Terry’s daddy was also a great father.
|Terry and his dad,
If I were giving out honorary degrees, these guys would receive PhDs in Fatherhood for the way they loved and cared for their families.