My dad is a loving and loyal man. A man of integrity and honor who is slow to anger and patient. He is sensitive and shy, though you may not believe it. Like my mother, I learned from him how to treat others. His slogan? "Kill 'em with kindness." And y'all, it works. He is wise. More wise than he even knows.
He'd rock me to sleep singing "One little, two little, three little Indians" and the first thing he'd do when he came home from work, was play with us. When he had to discipline, he'd never use his hand. My dad says, "hands are for loving." That speaks volumes of his character and when I'm a parent, I will do the same.
While we were growing up, he worked his butt off so we could have big Christmases, nice clothes and pretty prom dresses. He was understanding when we wanted a pair of Guess jeans or some new keds. And we always had the best golf clubs. Even now, I could ask for a new set and he'd make it happen.
He was my coach and teacher in all things sports. Swimming, water skiing, softball, basketball and golf. And during my stubborn moments, he was accepting and taught me anyway. He'd bribe me with money to foul in basketball and make birdies in golf. I realize now, he was instilling in me aggressiveness. More often than not, he would come to a golf tournament with notes of encouragement to put in my bag, so I could read them throughout the round. He pushed me and expected my best but when my best was bad, he'd let me cry and comfort me with words of affirmation.
He was able to witness me shoot 68 in Tampa, FL. My one and only round in the 60's. The joy and pride on his face warmed my heart and I'll never forget it. It's a memory both of us hold dear and will cherish always.
He drove a U-Haul, full of my stuff, to Waco from Mississippi when my first marriage ended. And he insisted on getting Trent and me a U-Haul trailer to tow our car to Nashville, so I didn't have to drive. My dad is a giver of weather radios, flood lights, and "be carefuls." And if he knows of storms in Austin, Salado, or Nashville, my sisters and I can expect a call.
My middle name, Donn, comes from him and so does my sensitive skin and big heart. We also share a love of coffee, tennis shoes, and The Shawshank Redemption.
I got my height, hands, and feet from my daddy, too. I've learned to embrace all three, however it wasn't always easy. When I was younger, kids in school would make comments on my stature and shoe size. I didn't feel bullied, but it impacted me enough to tell my parents. My dad would say:
"If someone asks you what size shoe you wear, ask them 'Are you writing a book? Leave that chapter out.' And if they ask you 'how's the weather up there,' spit on them and tell them it's raining."
I never did either of those things, but he gave me a confidence and an "I don't care what you say" attitude that has stuck with me.
I also inherited my dad's joy of making people laugh. He is one of the funniest people I know and others would say the same. I would like to share some Paads-isms. Some of his hilarious one-liners that, if you don't know him, may not make sense.
"Sometimes I make smart decisions. Most of the time I do not."
"Be a trend setter, not a trend follower."
"Never leave a birdie putt short."
"I'll pay you to clip my toenails."
"In marriage, you've got to give more than you receive. I've tried to gain some ground the last few years but I'm outta bullets."
"It's not how you drive, it's how you arrive."
"That's alright baby. Lots of golf left."
"That makes me want to go buy an Oak Ridge Boys cassette."
"Let the big dog eat!"
"That's what happens when you ration the sherbet."
"That hotel was playing CNN in the breakfast area. I almost checked out and went to one that played FOX."
"You know. I read a study that said drinking water really isn't that good for you."
"Show me something where I can get meat AND pancakes."
Daddy, if you had a twitter, I'm convinced you'd have a million followers and your tweets would inevitably become a book.
Thank you for everything, Daddy! I love you. Cheers!
