My Dad

My dad had a strong sense of responsibility to family. While still a young man and the eldest of nine kids, he would drive old cars to California and sell them, then ride the rails back (this was during the depression). I remember him telling me once of being put off a rail-car by a railroad bull near Gunnison, Colorado. He told of eating canned beans and peaches and generally pretty much roughing it to bring much needed cash back to family in Oklahoma.

I remember how quick and agile dad was and how hard he worked. I remember that he could walk and roll barbed wire into a roll faster than most people could walk and I took great pride in being his son from an early age. Looking back, I can say that dad was painfully honest. Though he might not voluntarily give his opinion he certainly would if asked (even if it wasn't flattering, because he always told it like it was).

Dad was a little hot-headed but mellowed a lot as he grew older and his faith in Christ grew stronger. Though he could be pretty tough when he had to be, he was kind-hearted and generous to all (even strangers). I remember him helping a family that was broke down on the highway (with cash). One of my uncles, who was there, kidded dad saying, "You'll never see that money again." But dad simply said it didn't make any difference because he felt led by God to help them.

I remember when the congregation of the small church Mom and Dad attended built a new sanctuary and someone had placed a new clock over the baptismal behind the pulpit. Dad had the clock moved to the back of the church because he believe the pastor needed to see it and not the congregation.

I remember when I was young I thought my dad was to critical and judgmental of Sis and I. Sis would be afraid to bring her friends home for fear Dad and I would get into a fuss (I always lost these fusses). But I finally understood why (when I was about sixteen) because I had an accident in town. I lost control of Dad's pickup while driving too fast and ran through a garage doing considerable damage. I thought dad would go through the roof, but he just quietly rolled up his sleeves and he and I set about rebuilding the garage and replacing broken tools. I had recently purchased a motorcycle that I was extremely proud of. It was a 1952 Indian Chieftain Eighty and we sold it back in Oklahoma City to help with the expense of rebuilding the garage. This experience taught me that dad loved us a lot and looked at Sis and I as extensions of himself. This view helped me in my relationship with my dad. I think it's really sad that a lot of kids don't ever get it - or understand that most parents want the best for their children but can be very critical and judgmental while trying to shape and mold their kids (especially if they are hard on themselves as well - perfectionist).

I could write pages about my dad but will stop here and just say that I'm looking forward very much to seeing him in heaven.

Above photo is of me and Dad taken sometime in the summer of 1953.

Above photo is of my Mom and Dad taken sometime in early 1950.

My Mom

My mom, Hazel Laura Atha/McEntire, was born the fourth girl in a family of six children (with three older sisters and two younger brothers). She was another product of the depression (very fugal and could manage money to the families best advantage - unlike Dad, who was a little impulsive, she thought out everything very carefully).

I remember seeing my momma's hands bleed from pulling cotton bowls, cooking and cleaning as she tended to our needs as well and I never heard her complain.

Mamma loved the game of basketball. When she was in school she played on a team that won District and went all the way to State before being beat. I remember when she was older she would hardly ever miss a game that was televised and followed the sport very carefully. This was a departure of the normal mode of the man being the sports buff (the only sport I can remember Dad showing interest in was boxing).

I regret all the worry I caused my mom when I was a teenager. She always saw the best in me and made excuses for me when I got into a fight or trouble. I hope that in some small measure I made up for this after I was grown. My Mamma loved us very much and made many self-sacrifices for us. She loved us enough to teach us manners and about Christ love and saving grace (even though I didn't actually receive God's saving grace until I was older). I still had the Truth and the benefit of many prayers from an early age.

I look back and can see how very blessed I was to have had the loving parents and family I had. I'm looking forward to seeing my mom and dad in heaven (we'll have so much to catch up on).