Billy Wayne

That's what his family called him. Just "daddy" to me. Today would be his 64th birthday. I've been pretty sentimental about certain days since he passed away in 2004. I do something special, or that helps me remember him on Father's Day, his birthday, and even the day he passed away. I love to cook, so I always cook some of the foods he really liked. On Father's Day, I carry an old Bible of his. It's one his parents gave him on his 12th birthday. King James version, of course. It's pretty old and beat up now, but cool to have it. Today, I'll think I'll watch a John Wayne classic, True Grit. He was a huge John Wayne fan. I remember the night it was announced that he had died. My father promptly said, "Well, it's time to the turn the TV off." I've never been a huge fan of Western movies, but it will be good today.

Daddy was a good man. One of those Texas "good ole boys." A rare and dying breed, I think. He was one of the hardest working men I've ever known. (I wish I had the work ethic!) And he would do anything for just about anyone. I feel like I knew 2 different men growing up, though. When I was a kid, I remember a very disconnected, quiet, isolated man. I remember him coming home from work everyday and he followed the same routine: eat dinner (no one talked), sit in his brown vinyl recliner and watch TV (no one talked) and then go to bed around 9:30 or so. The only other variable was that he and my mother fought constantly...that was about the only "talking" that ever happened. They divorced when I was 12. Something good happened for him as a result of that. He became an engaged, humous guy, and became intensely involved in our church. During my childhood, he rarely went to church. Something in him was tranformed, and it was very cool to watch. In the weeks prior to his death, we talked quite a bit about his marriage to my mother. It was a pretty miserable situation. My mother is an alcoholic and I think there are (or were) other mental disorders as well. I have my own difficult memories from her, but perhaps it was even more difficult as a spouse. Certainly daddy had his part in their problems. I have no intention of painting him as a saint or even a victim. As Al-Anon states, alcoholism is a family disease. It's just hard on everybody.

Hmmm, I had no idea where I was going with this entry! But welcome to my family stories! Mostly, I'm taking the time to remember a good man and give honor to my daddy.

P.S.- I'm not cooking today. I hang out with our teenagers from church every Wednesday. But! Tomorrow's menu: chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, green beans (stewed with bacon all day till they practically disintegrate!) and, of course, peach cobbler.