I wrote about my Mama the week before Mother's Day so I thought I would write about my Dad this week before Father's Day.
This picture is me with my Dad and his sister, my Aunt Ruby, when I was about 4 years old. The picture tells quite a lot about my Dad, he always wore a long sleeve shirt, he always wore a hat when he was outside, he smoked which is one of the reasons why he died so young. He was 50 years old when I was born and I was 18, two weeks out of high school when he died.
He was born in Iowa the 7th of 9 children and had to leave school after the 6th grade to work on the family farm. Even though he did not have a formal education he was an accomplished man. He was a farmer until the farm was lost in a bad draught year. He then worked as a manager at trailer parks to support his family. He was the hardest working man I have ever known. I never knew anyone who did not like him.
He was a quiet man with a dry sense of humor and a sparkle in his eye and a great love for his family. I adored him and was very blessed to have him as my Dad.