A Tribute to my Father

My father was born on October 12 or 13, 1914 (he was a fraternal twin and they always argued about who was born first, as one was born on the 12th and one on the 13th) in Johnson City, Texas. He is the on the left who is smiling.

Here he is with his brothers, he is the third from the left and his twin is the second from the left.

 

My grandparents were descended  from sturdy Dutch stock. My father was a dreamer, he passed on to me the magic of childhood that lasted into adulthood. He told me marvelous stories about outlaws, that fired my imagination and about fairies that lived in the garden flowers. He fed my hunger for literature by buying me comics, books and Illustrated classics. He took me to movies and played music on an old victrola. 

We would wind the handle and set the heavy arm on the record, and the scratchy sounds would fill my head with far away scenes. I would float on the river with the sun shining on my closed eyelids or sometimes I would sit on a wooden bench in a honky tonk while the guitar notes danced around me like women in full skirts. I would see my daddy all golden and handsome on the dance floor twirling a beautiful lady and looking lovingly into her laughing green eyes (she always looked like my momma). 

 Then the needle would start to drag and I would be back in the dusty room with the old 78's. I was twelve before I gave hope that my mom and dad would get back together.

 Dad is the tall one, second from the left. He was the only one of Grandpa's boys who didn't serve in the armed forces. In those days is was customary for a rancher to keep the son of his choice at home to help, and Grandpa picked my dad. He is standing with his brothers and his father is the the first one on the right.

Daddy with his brother-in-law, who was burned in a fire when he was a young boy. They were best friends.

 I treasure this picture, Dad is holding me and my brother is standing in the back.

This is Dad and my brother looking goofy. Dad died on January 20, 1981 in Roswell New Mexico. He was only 66 years old. He worked on Grandpa and Grandma's ranch, then worked his own farm. He was a good and loving dad an I miss him every day.

My brother and I in New Mexico for Dad's funeral.