The message delivered by our friend Dell was about seasonal growth which is totally what Daddy has been about as a lifelong tiller of the earth. When he began there were no cabs on tractors or fancy pickers. Cotton was picked by hand and though I remember seeing it done, I can honestly say I never carried a sack. One of my brothers almost burned up in the trailer from an accident with a match. Calves were born in all seasons and weather and Daddy tended to them day and night. The crop part was pretty much leased but the cattle were half his. As I grieve, I see pictures in my mind of all those times he came stomping into the red log cabin, shaking off the snow from one of those icy welfare checks. When the time came to separate them for sale, the mamas would always get pissed and try to pin somebody ( him ) against the gate. BG's daddy helped and got the crap kicked out of him. Broke his glasses too!
I was kind of a wild child at an early age and I remember one of the few times I saw my Daddy cry was when I snuck out to meet a boy and he couldn't find me. It's a sobering experience for one who was so hell bent on rebellion. When we decided to move here to the lane in '88 he spent six months repairing and remodeling the ancient house that has turned into my home. Every day or so I'd drop by and work at his side and this was probably what I enjoyed most with him...working toward a goal. Both he and my mother are quite meticulous record keepers and that seems to be the last thing to go, that need to keep up with business. On the other hand, I'm the one who can't find her shoes in the morning. To each and every one of you who have lifted my family up during the past week I say thank in the most humble way possible. It brings me a lot of peace thinking about him jitterbugging his way to heaven.