He wasnt a good man... He was a great man. A family man. Salt of the earth. He taught me to drive. Taught me to love peanut butter on anything, really everything. He was part of the greatest generation. The generation with hardened leather hands and tools that looked used. Worked for everything he ever had. Served in the Army Air Corps during WW2. Married my Taffy and loved her til the day she died. Lucky man that he was, a couple years later he found another great woman that he convinced to marry him. He was a great storyteller. Coincidently, he also would talk to anyone that would lend an ear. Stories of the war, about his familys grocery when he was a small boy, stories about his RV excursions all across the continent. Until the dementia set in, he could remember every person he ever met. I used to ride my bike to his house and we would make the best milkshakes. Recipe: water, dry milk powder, slim fast powder, bananas. Haha... I cant believe we would drink that. We might not have always seen eye to eye theologically, but he taught me to love Jesus with fierce passion. He always liked the song When the Roll is called up yonder. I guess he decided he didnt want to miss his name. Kenna, you are missed already.
Posted on: Thu, 15 Jan 2015 01:11:27 +0000
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