Overalls

I posted this note last year on this day, my poppa's birthday. Because today would have been his birthday, I wanted to share it again. He was my best friend.

He must have been 10’ tall. It seemed I needed a ladder to climb up and get that pen out of his bib pocket. He made it easy for me, though. He would sit in his chair and let me sit in his lap. He wore a treasure chest…I could play for hours with his paper and pens, and when I got tired of that, I would grab his comb and stand behind him in his chair. I would comb his hair and laugh with him until no end. He was my best friend. Every Sunday afternoon, he came home from church, he would take off his Sunday hat and socks, take his red bone Case knife out of his pocket, change into his Sunday best overalls and get ready to eat lunch. After every meal he would sop Bob White Syrup up with the homemade biscuits that had been prepared for him. Then, he would take his empty coffee cup and run water in it…he would drink it and let out a BIG ahhhhhhhhhh!

We would get in his truck after lunch. Although we had a mission, he never failed to stop at the store and let me spend a whole dollar on candy and a coke. Then, we would drive around to check on his cattle at different locations. He would get out of the truck and walk around, and tell me to drive all over the field. He always drove a Ford, diesel truck and the floorboard was full of junk. His seats were covered with dust from the barn and from the hay that he had spent hours cutting and raking on the tractor.

He was a strong man who I could always count on to be there when I needed him. In 1991, he was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor. I guess I thought that if anyone could make it, he would. He slept in the den for a couple of months…his face would light up when someone would walk into the room, and he listened to piano music with his headphones. It wasn’t just any piano music, it was his favorite…mine.

When he got sick, a caregiver encouraged me to record my music for him. So, with big tears rolling down my cheeks, I played several of his favorite hymns. He listened to them until the end. At the funeral, they played the recording…I know he was doing his funny little dance in Heaven…I’m sure his comb, and pen and paper to draw his crazy pictures were tucked perfectly in the pockets of his overalls.