It just occurred to me that today would have been my Daddy's 81st birthday. He passed at the age of 61 and it is impossible to imagine him as he might have been today. He will always be that man with the mischievous twinkle in his ice blue eyes just waiting to catch you off guard with a joke or some prank he was about to play. He taught us the value of laughter and knowing that we should never consider ourselves to be of less value than anyone else due to financial or physical circumstances. In an amazing number of ways, he was so like the character of Sheriff Andy Taylor with his outlook on life, philosophical reasoning and calm demeanor, that we wondered if the original author of the script might have known him at some point in time. He was a true wheeler/dealer and would bargain someone out of their last dime if they weren't wary. Sometimes his need to trade drove my mother to distraction. I remember once that he went to make the final payment on a truck and came back with a newer model! Mother was beside herself having envisioned being debt free; however, when it was all said and done, it turned out he had made such a great deal that all was forgiven!

Dad was the neighborhood "go to" guy. If you had a car or piece of machinery that wasn't working, all you had to call was call or bring it by. He was never afraid to tackle anything. His theory was that if he took it apart, he was sure he could put it back better than before. He worked hard and played hard and when he was ready to relax, nothing short of a tornado could move him. Heaven forbid you change the channel from the football game because you thought he was asleep - he was just resting his eyes!

Most importantly, Daddy embodied love. We never doubted that he would lay his life down for any of his family. When we were young, we didn't have a working vehicle at Christmas. Daddy hitched and walked off Signal Mountain to the Abe Shavin store where our presents were in lay-a-way, put them in the red wagon that was a part of Santa's gifts and walked most of the way back home. I know this sounds like one of the "I walked to school both ways uphill in three feet of snow" stories, but it is true. I measured this distance once I was grown and it was over 20 miles. There was no way his children would be disappointed. He loved my mother with a devotion that I long to experience some day. Theirs is a story that inspires novels and movies and something I will write more on another time.

So Dad, I miss you. Knowing you are with Mama and watching your children is such a comfort and I hope that you are as proud of us now as you were then. I love you.