Grace and Peace

Since it is Father’s Day, I thought I would share a favorite memory of my dad.  After we moved to the Gastonia, area I soon entered high school.  Now was my chance to play sports in a whole new league.  So in August of my freshmen year, I tried out for Football.  Football was not my best sport, but it was my favorite sport.

That August was hot and the two a day practices were tough.  Coach Joe Eller was a madman who drove his squad in the pursuit of excellence.  I loved the experience and so did my dad.  I remember near the end of practice in the afternoon session looking toward the hill on the north end of the practice field and seeing my dad standing there watching our practice.  He would work his eight hour shift at the warehouse and then stop by the school to see me.  He would wait there until practice was over and meet me as I trudged up the hill toward the locker room.  He would always make some encouraging comment about my play that day and then say, “I’ll see you at the house.”

After I showered, dressed, and got a ride home with a kid down the road, I would go into the kitchen and have dinner with my parents.  Dad would tell Mom that I was doing good at practice and we would talk about how the day had gone.  After dinner, we would go out on the porch and listen to the Braves game on the radio and maybe even play some cards.

 I was blessed with parents who loved me and spent time with me.  They invested their lives in mine and gave me a great example to follow as a man and as a parent, myself.  I can only hope that I will be as good a father as John Kelley.

As it heads into the weekend, I thought I would share a photo taken June 2, 2007 as my children and I prepare to go play in a golf tournament.  It was a captain’s choice type tournament and we ended up with a 65…not too bad considering all things.  We actually came in last place in the tournament, but we had loads of fun.  If there had been an after the tournament fight, I think we would have won that easily because everyone of us is 5′ 11” or better and real mean (LOL)!  Being with my kids was the highlight of the tournament for me.  I enjoy my kids more each day.  I am a blessed man!

Today is my dad’s 80th birthday.  He was born in 1927 about two weeks after Charles Lindbergh became the first person to fly an airplane solo across the Atlantic.

Dad was born just outside of Nashville, TN and joined the U.S. Army Air Force in 1945.  He served in WWII as a gunner on a B29.  He was stationed on Corregidor; an island at the entrance of the Manila Bay in the Philippines.

Dad married my mother on July 27, 1950 and they lived on the family farm with my grandparents in Randleman, NC.  A few years later, Dad took a job with the Western Auto warehouse in Greensboro in order to suppliment the family income.  We remained in Randleman until the warehouse was moved to Gastonia, NC in 1970.  He worked there until his retirement in 1989.

Our family settled in Dallas, NC (about 12 miles from Gastonia).  I was a young teenager then and life went by pretty quick.  I graduated from high school in 1974 and college in 1978.  Two weeks after college graduation I was married.

Dad and Mom remained in Dallas until 1993.  Due to their failing health, we persuaded them to move to Jacksonville, NC to be near us.  Those were great years for our family.  Sadly, Mom died in June 1995.  By August of that year, Dad moved in with us.  Dad was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s, but functioned at a good level for about five years.

Due to the progression of the Alzheimer’s, a stroke, and a myriad of other health problems, Dad entered Britthaven of Onslow in April of 2000.  Dad remained there until his death on August 18, 2001.

During his time in the nursing home, Dad thought he was still in the hospital.  Every time I visited him, we would have a variation of the same conversation:

Dad:  Well, the doctor said I could go home tomorrow.

Me:  That’s great when should I pick you up?

Dad:  I’ll have the nurse call you when it is time to come get me.

Then we would go on to talk about what we would do when he got home.  Dad also forgot that Mom had died.  Sometimes he would tell me that I had just missed my Mom cause she had been there to visit.  Other times he would say, “Tell your mother not to bother coming here today, because I know it is hard on her to get out.  Tell her I’ll see her tomorrow at home.”

When Dad died from pneumonia, I thought to myself, “Now he had finally gone home to see her.”