On this day in 1929, my father was born. I heard the story about how hard times were–to the point where my grandpa often stole chickens and such to keep the family fed. They picked cotton. They worked the fields and they were very creative. My grandmother, Mary E. O’Neill played an organ, Dad could write and Uncle Jackie could also–in fact, my uncle had a photographic memory! He could read a book and remember it almost word for word, page number and chapter of what he wanted to tell us about. In short, Uncle Jackie was a genius!
I”ll share some of the funny stuff at some point but for now, I’m just going to sit back and remember some of the fun things–like when we all went camping at Ringling Lake in Eastland, TX.
He’s been gone since 1995, but I think of him every year. I’m a little late tonight, but I was always late for everything when I was young–except school and work. I drove my dad nuts if I didn’t call when I was supposed to, but today I wish I could call him…I miss him more than anyone can comprehend, but if I could call him, I’d introduce him to this little guy–his great-grandson!
I see a little of Dad in him…Just enough to lemme know that that boy has the Irish in him! I think his hair is going to be like Dad’s too, but it’s too early to tell…
Anyway, if my dad is out there somewhere with his arms folded across his chest wondering what the heck is going on around here, I just wanna say this: “Happy Birthday, Dad! You can put your halo back on now. I remembered!”