My Dad...A Very Hard Man

With Granddaughter, LesLee

All his life, Daddy has been a hard man.

Hard working…he worked the midnight shift at Reynolds Metals, a hot, dirty job, about which I never once heard him complain. In the daylight hours, in addition to the odd money making venture like selling Amway or owning a gas station, he managed his accounting service…a business he kept going beginning of this year when he finally gave the last account up!

Hard-nosed…he could sniff out a cigarette I smoked two days before! He gave up smoking cold-turkey around 1970, and never wanted one again. He hated for me to pick that habit up.  (I gave it up long ago.)

Hard to get an answer…it was rare that Mom left us with Dad. Normally, she was right there being the best mom and housewife in the South, but on the rare occasion she did sneak way for a few minutes, when I asked for permission to go to a neighborhood friend’s house, Dad’s standard answer was, “Wait until your mother gets home and ask her.”

Hard to beat…I suppose all children think their dad is the strongest man in the world. Mine really was, and all who know him would agree.

An Ole Miss Fan
Roll Tide, anyway!

Hard hitting…he once stomped a wasp with his bare foot that had dared to land on my sister, who was screaming in sheer terror until he knocked it off of her and took care of the problem.

Hard hearted…as in not faint of heart. Dad ignored the raging storm outside. You know the kind, severe and tornado prone; I was scared, the trees were bending in the force of the wind, rain was blowing sideways, and I was wondering if we needed to take cover. His response was, “It’s a little windy, isn’t it?” He did not take cover. When we had a tornado passing overhead (complete with sirens blaring) he went outside to check it out. Somehow, I felt safe enough to go stand with him.

You’d have a hard time finding someone more dedicated to Jesus Christ, his Savior. It’s just the way he lives his life. He walks the walk and talks the talk. He’s read the Bible through over 40 times. Yes, over forty times!

Hard headed…he’s 81 years old. He can’t figure out that most 81 year old men don’t still play racquetball. 

With granddaughter LesLee

My precious Daddy…a rock in this world…will be having quadruple bypass surgery on Monday. He’s so calm and collected. He’s more perturbed about not playing racquetball while he recovers than he is about the blockages or the surgery. He’s so grounded in knowing he’ll be all right no matter what happens that he’s not scared at all.  I'm trying to not be scared.  My dad…a very hard act to follow. I sure love him.

In his youth