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Great Grand Father Two years ago I sat at our dinning room table and told a short story To my grand children. The story was about my father, written to and for his six great grand children. ************************************************** He was born in 1905, and known to all in his day as A J. He died at the tender age of 58 in 1963 when I was a teen of 13 years old. He left behind a wife who was 35 at the time of his untimely death. She was the mother of 12, 11 of which were minor children at his passing. She was most precious and very mature for a woman of her age. When A J married her, he also took her mother into the home where she lived until her death. A J was a small man of 5’7’’ in height and not more than 135 pounds. However, I assure you that he was a giant of a man in mind, and commanded the respect of all who knew him. Some, I am told, owed their very livelihood to him. It was a time when poverty ruled the days in our community, and hunger often terrorized the nights. A J was not wealthy, but he held keys to doors that opened the hearts of the rich and powerful who gave him those keys. All indications were such that he never abused the power and authority granted to him. A J had siblings and relatives that moved away from their native Southern Region and struck out for better fortunes and opportunities in the North, East, and West. However, he never found any interest in leaving the farming way of life in which he was both familiar and very skilled. Although I remember him on occasions saying, “I’m going out West where the eagle builds his nest”, he never attempted to move out west. I really think that A J felt that he was where he belonged, where he could do the most good. I think that he was proud to have married a good woman who would be the loving mother of his children. He knew that the two of them could raise their children in a safe and healthy environment. Life presents to us all the reality of the good, the bad, and the ugly. God has granted to each and all the free will to make right or wrong choices. Choosing my mother tells me more about my father than anything else. Looking back, I find great satisfaction in the fact that he did not cart us off to the big cites in search of a better life. He felt that he already had the better life; and considering the options he had at the time, I could not agree more. 06182016 Happy Fathers Day. PS
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