First of all, he would absolutely never have understood why he is @numbereighteen. Let's get that out of the way first. At the end, he had an iPhone, sure, who doesn't? But he had no idea what this newfangled "texting" was, or really anything else other than making a call and receiving a call. Computers? Hell, naw. Message boards? Fantastical wizardry, as far as he was concerned. I tried, believe me, but he wasn't interested in any sort of technology more advanced than cable television.
My dad, as you may or may not have heard, passed this past Thursday. (I think I posted about it, but the last week as been a blur, and I'm just now coming down from it, so here we all are.) They tell me he was eating dinner, and then just collapsed. By the time I arrived at the hospital, he was already gone. He was 80.
My dad graduated from Auburn in '68, with a degree in Industrial Design, which I am convinced is as close as he could get to an art degree without his parents disowning him. I have a painting he did hanging in my office. It's good.
He was a plumbing contractor by trade, mostly because his second job out of college was for my grandfather's plumbing company. When I told him I was going to ask for Ms. 19's hand in marriage, he had one piece of advice for me: "Son, don't you ever- EVER- work for her daddy." (I didn't.)
He loved hunting, fishing, Auburn, the Lord, his family, and his work. Not necessarily in that order, but I might have gotten close.
My sister brought some pictures when we met in Birmingham this week to prepare for the services, and I figured I'd share this one with you all. From what I can tell, this is a picture from the very early 80's, taken at Captain Anderson's marina in PCB after a particularly successful deep-sea charter trip:
That man is in his happy place, right there. The moment I saw that picture, I told my sister "that's the one. That's Dad, right there, exactly at his proudest. Look at how happy that man is to hold that fish up." What I wouldn't give to have that bucket hat, and they for sure don't make Auburn shirts the way they used to. (By the way, you can file that one under "Pictures you can smell" - I know I can.)
The funeral yesterday was small, mostly because he outlived most of the people who would've otherwise come. That's a comfort in itself, I think.
In closing, my dad was a good man, and I'm glad he was my dad.
Thank you for reading about him.
My dad, as you may or may not have heard, passed this past Thursday. (I think I posted about it, but the last week as been a blur, and I'm just now coming down from it, so here we all are.) They tell me he was eating dinner, and then just collapsed. By the time I arrived at the hospital, he was already gone. He was 80.
My dad graduated from Auburn in '68, with a degree in Industrial Design, which I am convinced is as close as he could get to an art degree without his parents disowning him. I have a painting he did hanging in my office. It's good.
He was a plumbing contractor by trade, mostly because his second job out of college was for my grandfather's plumbing company. When I told him I was going to ask for Ms. 19's hand in marriage, he had one piece of advice for me: "Son, don't you ever- EVER- work for her daddy." (I didn't.)
He loved hunting, fishing, Auburn, the Lord, his family, and his work. Not necessarily in that order, but I might have gotten close.
My sister brought some pictures when we met in Birmingham this week to prepare for the services, and I figured I'd share this one with you all. From what I can tell, this is a picture from the very early 80's, taken at Captain Anderson's marina in PCB after a particularly successful deep-sea charter trip:
That man is in his happy place, right there. The moment I saw that picture, I told my sister "that's the one. That's Dad, right there, exactly at his proudest. Look at how happy that man is to hold that fish up." What I wouldn't give to have that bucket hat, and they for sure don't make Auburn shirts the way they used to. (By the way, you can file that one under "Pictures you can smell" - I know I can.)
The funeral yesterday was small, mostly because he outlived most of the people who would've otherwise come. That's a comfort in itself, I think.
In closing, my dad was a good man, and I'm glad he was my dad.
Thank you for reading about him.
