Remembering my daddy on Father’s Day

Last Sunday was Father’s Day, and I began thinking of my father, however, I didn’t call him “father.” He was my Daddy. Any man can be a father, but it takes a real man to be a daddy. He was born in Leonard, Tex., in 1904. His family moved to Rochelle in 1912, and they resided three miles west of town in a place that was later known as the Wash Adams place or where Raymond Torres now lives. I remember my daddy picking cotton and talking to himself, saying, “There must be a better way to make a living.” He began to farm by sharecropping. That was a disaster also. When I was about five years old, we walked to Rochelle, and he borrowed $50 from Mr. Willis. He began trading old cars for a living and never looked back until he passed away in Brady on April 8, 1975. I also never did say to him “thank you” for all the things he did for me. He bought me my first bicycle in 1936. It was a secondhand one from Eva Nell Roper. Then in 1940 my first new bicycle came from Montgomery Wards. My first BB gun was a Red Ryder. He was always busy and on the go, but always had time to ask me each day if I needed anything. I got my first Shetland pony in 1937, and my first car was a Model A in 1941. My new boots came from Miss Ellis’ store in Rochelle. My daddy let me charge things at Paul Haddow’s Drug Store in Rochelle. He always said he would help me in anything, just as long as I always told him the truth and didn’t talk about other people. He helped me with financing when I was going to Howard Payne College. He was always making sure that I was polite to older people and to women. He only spanked me one time, and that was when I was about four. I was mad because we had to walk home from Doc Newman’s blacksmith shop where he was fixing our old truck. As we walked by M.A. Gainer’s store he bought me a sack of candy. I threw the candy in his face. That was a bad mistake. He was always bragging to me about things I did later in life. He never missed a ball game all the years I was playing. He always had something good to tell me. He was never complaining or griping about anything. I never did really tell him thank you for the many things he did for me, and thank you for being my father, my daddy and the best friend I ever had.

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