Daddy was born on August 19, 1917. I can't imagine the changes that he saw throughout his life. Born and raised on a small farm he worked hard alone side his two brothers and Dad before leaving home and joining the army in 1943 and being shipped to France and Germany. His war years were times that he wouldn't talk about. He lost good, good friends over there.
He was a good man but a stern one. He never had to take a hand to us because one look from him was enough to make you straighten up, but he also had very big and kind heart and a great love for his family and especially our Mom.Some people said that the 10 year difference in their ages and their religion preference would not help their marriage to last, but both were very determined people and it took his death to separate their 38 year of being together. They made life special for each other and weren't afraid to show it. They went places together, they danced and even went as far as to decide what jobs Mom would do so that the family stayed in tact and they both worked hard at it. Between them both, we were raised with a stern hand but also with lots of love.
Being the oldest daughter I like to think that Daddy and I had a very special connection. We went every where together when I got older including traveling through Kansas and Nebraska. While young and still at home I followed him around like a lost puppy. Where he was I usually was not far behind. He taught me a lot about how to treat people and especially how to treat myself. Oh, don't get me wrong he could be just as loud, augmentative and opinionated as the next person. He liked to be right and sometimes wanted you to believe that he knew everything but after a little mixing of words he sometimes would admit that he didn't, especially if my Mom gave him the look.
He was someone that my brothers and sister looked up to. He was someone you went to when you were unsure of things, the person who held you in his lap when you were scared or sick, sit up with you all night plus the one who helped you correct your mistakes no matter how painful they were. He was just plain someone you loved and someone you could look up to and trust.
He worked at Fort Leavenworth for over 30 years driving trucks and supervising the the moving of officers to new locations. He transported missals to different locations and drove vehicles during different presidential funerals. He always said he liked driving. He drove combat trucks during the war, He drove semi-trucks and others while he worked at the Fort, He drove dump trucks hauling rock and dirt after he retired. He was proud of the place he worked and the jobs he did, he was proud of his family and he was very proud to be an American.
He was my hero! He was my Dad.
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