Often I’ve heard the saying, “He died doing what he loved.” My dad worked a full forty hours this week and then suffered a fatal stroke. I guess in his case, that saying holds true. He was eighty-two.

If you didn’t know my dad, I’ll try to give you snapshot of the man he was. You may have heard of the actors, John Wayne or Andy Griffith. Dad was a blend of men, of those types. He was that ever present force. The kind of man you could rely on, the voice in your ear…that told you to always do the right thing.

Dad was from a generation that saw hard times. He was from an area that saw harder times than many. He told me once about how he would take a lard sandwich, in a paper bag, to school for lunch. He then went on to say how he took a block of wood in the bag when they didn’t have lard, so it looked like he had a sandwich. Truth…fiction…I don’t know, but times were tough in 1930’s rural Arkansas.

As a young man, Dad enlisted in the United States Army. He spent time in Germany and reached the rank of Sargent…a drill instructor. He was a drill instructor in the Army too. He loved discipline and more than once his hand came over the front seat of the car, into the back seat, when the horseplay became too much for him to take.

Growing up, a son looks up to their Dad and thinks that he can do anything. I was no different. The only exception, my Dad could do just about anything. Mind you, he wasn’t an expert on some things, but he was good at everything; he never backed down from the challenge learning something new.

Addition on the house…check. Commercial roof-top, air conditioner modified to keep our house as cold as a meat locker…check. A push-button, George Jetson, faucet in the kitchen…check. The list goes on and on.

Dad had a way about him, given the fact that he only had an eighth grade education from the cotton fields of Arkansas. He could—and would, lecture you about the thermodynamics of a refrigeration system, which would leave you in the end, understanding it.

Dad was a wordsmith. He may have added more words to the English language than anyone else. Riddem, translation rhythm. Chimlee…chimney. Chrishtle…crystal, the list goes on. I think that it may have reached a point, in which he relished in the fact that we noticed and agonized the way he said these words.

Then there were the ‘Dadisms’: “Toe the mark”, “Drive it in the ground and break it off,” ”Jerk a knot in your tail.” “Sore as a boil”, “I’d stretch a mile, if I didn’t have to walk back”. There were others, I can’t recall.

If you are one of the millions of people who love Karaoke, my Dad invented it. Well, sort of, he used to sing made up songs. One favorite was ‘Sweet Jody Brown, Pass a Fakie Cup of Coffee’. Pass a what? Wasn’t a good song but it sure worked to embarrass my sister when he drove her to high school.

Do you have a green thumb? Dad had two green thumbs, eight green fingers and ten green toes…His toes—are an entirely other story. He could and did grow anything: Strawberries, cucumbers, peaches, apples, squash and much more. I’ve heard that fruit trees lined up at his front door begging to be planted.

Like most, Dad had his share of health problems, as he aged. He was not afraid to share those things, way too many things, sometimes. Did I mention the caster? They're most commonly known as a catheter. Some things you just really don’t want to hear about. But he was always ready to share.

Many families have difficulties being functional, ours was no different. But through it all, in our youth, Dad got us to church on Sunday. His faith is an inheritance, which will pay off for an eternity.

I’m sure that I speak for my brother and my sister when I say, that the things he taught us and showed us, are the things that make us better people. He taught us to have a strong work ethic, to stand up for ourselves and others, to be self-reliant, to treat people the way we want to be treated and, when we have nothing else, left to do, to do the right thing. These things will be with us, and with our children, and with our children’s children. These things will be the motivation, the courage and the conviction, to which we cling to in hard times. These things will be with the unborn, generations to come.

Dad, we love you, and we miss you, but we rest in the fact that you are in a much better place, waiting.