My Dad, Edsel, grew up in Little River, Kansas, a small town, surrounded by mostly farmland.  He was the youngest of three children – he had an older brother, Vincent, and an older sister, Eleanor.  Together, with their parents, they raised mostly wheat and hogs.  Life wasn’t easy in the early 1900’s.  They struggled like most of America to get through the Great Depression of 1929. 

The schools my Dad attended were so small, that in order to have athletic teams, everyone had to participate.  My Dad grew up playing baseball, football, basketball and ran track.  He was drafted in the Army in World War II.  His Dad could have kept him out of the war because he needed help on the farm, but my Dad became a Soldier. 

He wrote many letters to his parents while he was in the war.  There was not much he could tell them about what was going on, but he was faithful in staying in touch.  He did fight in the Battle of the Bulge and was wounded.  He received a purple heart because of that, along with several other medals.  When he arrived back home in the states, he attended college and got a job in Houston, Texas where he met my mother. 

My Dad was a very simple and hard-working man.  I learned to love sports -  because my Dad controlled our television set when he was at home – and that was a big part of what we watched.   He had to have had a lot of patients because I’m sure I asked him some of the same questions hundreds of times.  We attended many baseball and football games as a family.  If I asked my mother if I could go somewhere or do something, if she said I had to ask my Dad, then I knew the answer would probably be “no”. 

My Dad worked for Dow Chemical Co. in Freeport, Texas for nearly 30 years before he retired.  He and my mother had a home built in East Texas (near Nacogdoches) where my Mother’s family was from and moved there in 1980.  He planted peach, plum, pear and pecan trees – a very small orchard, but because he grew up on a farm, he enjoyed working outdoors. 

He enjoyed traveling and going to his Army reunions before he went to sleep and woke up in heaven, twenty-one years ago.  He died from a heart-attack, but at least he didn’t suffer.  There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of my Dad and miss him.  I know I will see him again, one day, and I have some very special memories of a very quiet, but great Dad.  I know many of you probably had similar Dads – they worked hard to support their families and had a lot of inner strength.  God blessed me with a great Dad!

  Photo of my Dad, myself and my Mom at Dad’s home in Kansas when I turned “18″