I'm A Spring Chicken!

I've said it before and will say it again, springtime is my favorite season. Hands down I love seeing nature wake up from winter's sleep and things turn green. Sure the pollen turns my car yellow and the porch is dusted with it as well as everything outside. Don't wear black pants if you want to sit outside on a nice day. It won't turn out good, for sure.

Nature is not the only thing that wakes up in March, I have several friends and relatives celebrating birthdays in March, including myself. I'm not talking about a couple, I'm talking a huge number of birthdays including an Aunt, cousins, nephews and the list goes on of people close to me sharing the season. While most of us are no longer spring chickens, we were at one time fresh eyed beings marveling at the pretty pastel colors, deep green of leaves and grass, and bright blossoms from flowers. Even when they occasionally get a dusting of snow left over from winter. I still say the best ground hog is in patties or links and not as weather predictors.

With so much going on all at once, things like birthdays sometimes take a backseat to our complaints of this or that seasonal abnormalities. As we get older, birthdays become "just another day". There's less milestones making them special, like becoming a teenager, driver's licenses, drinking age or they eventually hit you with the realization you have to select a whole new age group on online forms. Cakes become cup cakes with a candle in it or you can't indulge because your glucose is off the scale or your hips are too wide for the door. They happen and we just move on. No presents, just another day like Tuesday or Thursday.

One year, as my birthday was approaching, Mom asked me what kind of cake I wanted for my big day. I've never had any cake I didn't like, so how does a kid turning 8 or 9 answer that question? I like all cakes regardless of what's inside, even plain cake with no frosting is good to me. It's gotta be pretty dry and crusty for me to not like cake! She was determined to get an answer though and make me the perfect cake, so all I could come up with is blue. I want a blue cake.

The day finally came and we had several relatives over, most of them also celebrating their March birthday,s and Mom put out her usual spread of food and drinks. She then brought out the blue cake, adorned with candles. It was sky blue and I couldn't imagine how she made it so perfectly. Everyone got a kick out of my blue cake and it didn't take long for it to be gone. It went down in my personal history as the best birthday I ever had and remains my favorite to this day.

I still celebrate every trip around the Sun now, but mainly as a cancer patient, I appreciate every one as well as each new day. I'd give anything if Mom could bake me a cake again, but that's a precious memory that can only happen in my mind.

February 2018 in Review

February is not my favorite month mentally since both my parents passed away around Valentine's Day. Dad passed away in 2005 on that day and we buried Mom on Valentine's Day in 2016. I really don't do any big celebrating or sweet mushy gestures this time of year. I did however, jump feet first into half priced candy after the flower frenzy day was over!

My last CT scan revealed fluid built up in the sack surrounding my right lung, so my Doctors decided to drain the fluid out. Without too many gory details, they sat me on the side of a bed leaning over a tray table with my arms crossed as a Nurse held my arms down. That was my first clue this wasn't going to be pleasant. I asked if I needed a bullet to bite on.

It's been many years since my Mom would tickle and tease me and I had forgotten how ticklish I still am. The Doctor had to probe with his fingers to locate the space between my ribs and I was having a hard time holding still while he tickled my side. Once he located the sweet spot and inserted the needle it was a piece of cake. Who knew being tickled was worse than having a needle inserted into your lung cavity?

I watched as the glass jar filled up with fluid and they had to get a second bottle. When it finished, they had drained 1400 ml of fluid, which is just over a quart. Oddly, I was not having any breathing problems and no symptoms at all before this. They did tests on it and it came back normal, but after a week of more tests, a result came back with "atypical cells", which made them suspicious given my history. They decided to hold off on radiation and start me back on chemo to knock down any abnormal cells before they attach to something and grow.

Hey, it's February, why not! We go through the lab tests, possible side effects and the chemo. I had one of the drugs on the first go round, so I knew what to expect. The second drug is a "step up", and boy, that's an understatement. My RN, Vickie, told me to let her know if I had a reaction to it, although she said she would know before me because I would turn beet red from the waist up if it happened and she would see it. Fortunately it went well and I remained tanned.

The next morning, though, it had hit me like a ton of bricks. Every "possible" side effect listed showed its ugly head and did not ease up. Even jacked up on steroids! The next day was no better, but it got me to the weekend, so I had four days to recover before the next work week. Plenty of time, no? NOPE! My fatigue level was off the chart, but slowly I was able to amble around a little more each day. Now, chemo messes with your tastes buds, which I expected, but not exactly. In previous rounds I lost my tastes for anything with artificial flavors, milk and iced tea. I'm Southern, how can I turn down tea, Pepsi or Coke? Just water, maybe with lemon.

This time however, I was like the girls in the movie "Nine To Five" eating after their pot party. Everything tasted soooo good! I got my taste for tea back, hot and iced. Food was awesome and I loved it. Didn't keep it all down, but it sure was good going in!

So I pretty much spent the rest of the month dog tired all the time, but a bit stronger each day. I started eyeing the weather forecasts since we had an abnormal end of month warm spell. Everything pointed to a great weekend to end February and I quickly booked a trip to Nags Head. We had a fantastic time and I got my annual off road beach pass for Cape Hatteras. I drove on the sand from Nags Head to Oregon Inlet, the point of the island where the ferries cross to Ocracoke and then off to the famous Shelly Island at the lighthouse. It's so cool to park on the beach, take the chairs out and watch the birds fishing and not have to lug them several hundred yards in soft sand. I didn't expect so many flies to enter the Jeep and not find their way out. It's Thursday, and I didn't see any today, so maybe the last one starved to death.

It was a horrible month, but an great way to end it!

My Grown Up Christmas Wish

Holiday gatherings are special times with family, friends, neighbors and co-workers. It really is the "most wonderful time of the year". Even sweeter, is reconnecting with people you haven't seen in a while, or your extended family that have come into your life; either on purpose or unified by random events.

Back in June 2016, I checked into Duke Raleigh Hospital severely dehydrated and hungry as I couldn't eat much of anything because of the cancer. The Fourth Floor Charge Nurse brought me to my room and gave me two hospital gowns. She said they had seen way too many wrinkled butts roaming the halls and appreciate it when the patients cover it up. She was a very sweet lady and we had a few laughs before she left the room.

Robert and Me in the lobby at Duke Raleigh Hospital Dec 2017

Seconds later, there was a knock on the door and I invited the stranger in my room. He introduced himself as Rev. Robert Davis, the Clergyman that usually covered the fourth floor at the hospital.

Have you ever met someone with such a kind face and demeanor that you instantly feel at ease, like you've known them all your life? A person that you crossed paths with on purpose, as if a higher power put them in that exact place at exactly the right time? That's the  feeling I had with this man.

Robert explained he happened to pass by and stopped at my door on a whim. He explained his mission, and asked where the room's patient was. He was a little surprised when I said I was the patient, since I was still in my street clothes. He said I looked too healthy to be the patient, and we had a good laugh. We chatted for quite a while, and I have to admit I felt a bond with this stranger that had wandered in on a whim. After we had talked a while, he asked if he could pray for me, and then said he'd stop in while I was in the hospital.

He was true to his word, and I looked forward to his daily visits, even when I wasn't feeling as fresh as a daisy! It really meant the world to me and definitely set the tone for my mental attitude for all the upcoming procedures and chemo treatments. Robert's fellowship was a positive influence on me and I couldn't have made it this long without his initial "jump start" and attitude adjustment.

After I was discharged, I didn't get a chance to see him again and lost contact with him. After my esophageal surgery, I was visited by other staff clergy covering ICU, but it just wasn't the same. Don't get me wrong, I appreciated them coming by and praying for my recovery and my Doctors, but there was not the same connection I had with Robert.

I lost Robert's contact info in the mass of papers, business cards and summaries I got, but I never forgot him. Several times, I searched for him online with no results at all. How is it possible that Google has no record of a person's location or contact info? Besides, who isn't on Facebook, Twitter or other social media these days? I would search every few months with no results. In desperation, I found the Duke Hospital Clergy's web page and found email addresses. I sent an email to one of the Administrative Assistants, figuring if anyone knew Robert, they would.

Days, then weeks went by and I was about to give up. It turns out she did not know Robert and forwarded my email up the chain. One of the Pastors knew him, was his supervisor, and had saved his contact info and sent my email to Robert.  As I checked my morning emails on the phone a couple weeks ago, there it was! An email from Robert, saying he remembered me from our brief meetings over a year and a half ago! I quickly clicked reply and sent my response, even though I seriously doubted he remembered me at all.

Nothing for days. No reply from Robert. My Engineer brain realized my phone uses my work email as the default client, so maybe my response went to his junk or spam folder, so I replied again using my personal Gmail address.

No response. Really? Are there people in this world that do not check their email every 10-15 minutes or less? Who does not reply to emails right away?

A couple nights ago, my phone "dinged" and I got an email from Robert asking what times would be good to meet. I responded and got a reply! We set up our meeting at 4:00 at the Hospital Cafe. My Christmas wish was coming true and I arrived with bells on. Not literally, but definitely with visions of sugar plums dancing in my head and very emotional that I was about to get my Christmas wish.

After I confirmed he hadn't arrived before me, I took a seat in the lobby and pulled my phone out to check emails. (Yep, I'm one of those people) 4:00 came and went and I was afraid he may have been called away on an emergency, but then he called my name from across the lobby, and sat down breathless, like he had just finished a marathon. Actually, he had, as he admitted he played a game of "Frogger" by crossing Old Wake Forest Road in afternoon traffic!

We pretty much picked up our conversation where we left off in 2016. Without prompting, Robert actually did remember our first meeting in detail and admitted he also thought of me and how I was doing. Then the irony floodgate was opened when Robert began by saying "Here's something you don't know about me!" The parallels of our lives flowed out like a tidal wave and it became very clear why we had such a strong connection. We are two peas in a pod in so many ways.

Our reunion also revealed itself to be a two way street. My whole positive attitude during my treatments are due to meeting this man at the right time, but I was missing the spark Robert brought into my life.  Robert admitted he was going through rough times recently and my email had the same effect on him. It is very obvious we were meant to be friends, and while neither of us understand God's plan for throwing us together, we both vowed to allow it to happen. I truly believe we did not cross paths accidentally. We were having such a good time and cracking up in laughter while recalling some of our adventures, and people passing us in the lobby looked at us and smiled knowing we were having such a good fellowship, or they were thinking, bless their hearts, they're crazy.

To make a long story short, Christmas is a magical time of feelings you can't buy in a store. This was my Christmas wish and it came true, so don't hesitate to make a wish. You might get what you wished for.

Things That Go Bump In The night

The Night Time Visitor

As a little kid, I became more curious and often explored the woods and fields around my house. Between our house and my Grandparents' house was a piece of woods with a path between our houses where Dad ran a water line from their well to our house. Grandma Bill had the biggest flashlight I had ever seen, silver and it held 4 "D" cell batteries, she would use to come over for a visit in the evenings. She would walk down that path at night with Granddaddy Bud and walk back in the dark. They must have been very brave back then.While I had no problem exploring during the daytime, there's no way I would go down that path after dark!

I wasn't afraid of the dark, just what might be in the dark. Out in the country, that could be anything from dogs, deer or bigger things. I loved being outside during the daytime, but I was very comfortable being inside at night.

Out in the country, there are no street lights, so when it gets dark, it is really dark, unless there's a full moon. One such night, I went to bed, and it was very bright outside. As I lay there contemplating tomorrow's activities, I noticed the shadow of a dark figure move outside my window! It was the boogie man trying to get me! I screamed for my life for someone to help save me from certain doom. Mom comes running in first and sees the figure outside my window. As my dad gets in my room, she turned to him and explained what it was. It appears it wasn't the Boogie man after all! A horse had broken out of the corral next door and was eating grass next to the foundation of the house and lazily chewing as it stared blankly into my window. Dad called the neighbor and went outside to secure the horse until he got there. Mom assured me there was no real Boogie Man and everything was alright.

Halloween was cool, because we kids could become the boogie man for a change. Costumes were not as elaborate as they are today and usually just consisted of a plastic mask held on with a cheap elastic band that usually broke before the night was over. The plastic didn't smell that great, either! The local Lion's Club always put on a show at my elementary school auditorium with a womanless pageant show and cake walks, or Hee Haw skits with treats set up in the library for sale, handcrafted by the ladies in the community.

It was impossible to go trick or treating by foot because houses were separated by a quarter mile or more, so we had to go from house to house by car, or even better, in a pick-up truck or farm truck full of hay with a dozen kids cuddled up in thick jackets. I guess that's why even today, I love the chill of the Autumn air, even though the chemo has me wrapped up in a blanket these days. 

Back then, treats were often homemade. Candied apples, rice crispy treats and pulled taffy. This was long before a razor blade was found in an apple or laced with LSD. None of us would ever pull a vicious attack on other's property and respected their pumpkins and decorations, so tricks were limited to out plastic masks.

My Dad loved every holiday, and was basically a kid during the seasons. One year, my folks created a man in overhauls stuffed with hay, sitting in a chair in the front yard waving at the cars that came by. He had a pumpkin head and a straw hat, and to be honest, was a pretty good Halloween decoration coming from my parents. Apparently, someone else liked it and stole it from the yard. That's the first time I can recall ever having anything stolen around from us. My Dad was devastated because he was so proud of his creation and felt violated somebody went in the yard and stole it.

Halloween has certainly changed a lot over the centuries and continues to evolve today. Memories are made, lessons learned, and the cavity creeps rejoice!
  

The Root of all Evil

The Little Boy, a Tractor and the Root


 
I grew, like a wild weed, my Mom would say. My Dad noticed I was getting big enough to learn how to drive the tractor. My legs were long enough to reach the pedals, so Daddy taught me how to use the clutch, brakes and steer the tractor. It came time to harvest the potatoes at Grandma Bill's house, so Dad connected a plow to the tractor to dig the rows up to reveal the potatoes growing in the ground. The plow was a middle buster, which pushes the dirt to the left and right,  splitting the middle of the row to reveal the potatoes. It was a very old plow that Granddaddy had used in the fields pulled by a mule. Dad had attached it to the tractor with a short chain and would walk behind it to keep it at the right depth.

There happened to be a sweet gum tree at the end of the row that little Russell used to play under in the dirt. It was huge and as big around as I was tall. It took a little maneuvering to get the tractor into the row and get ready to pull the plow. Dad said, let out the clutch slowly and drive down the row. The tractor took off and the plow dug into the dirt, then suddenly, the tractor stopped moving forward as the plow caught a root under the row, and the front wheels came off the ground. The tractor was about to tip over backwards! I quickly pressed the clutch, although it seemed like everything was in slow motion and the wheels came down with a thud! I threw it out of gear and jumped off as my heart was beating 100 miles per hour. Daddy wrestled the plow off the root it was stuck on and told me to get back on the tractor so we could finish digging the potatoes.

Scared, with adrenaline still rushing through my veins, I blurted out "I ain't getting back on that gosh damn thing ever again!" Dad was speechless! He too was scared at what could have happened, and relieved it didn't happen, and totally shocked his little boy just said a cuss word. Fortunately, he was too relieved to be mad and he assured me it was OK and to get back on the tractor. We finished plowing the row and went down the next one. Then we had to grapple in the dirt and put the potatoes in bushel baskets.

Dad never said or did anything about what I said, but he did relay the story to anyone that would listen. I think he was just as scared as I was when the root grabbed the plow and nearly flipped the tractor over.

The Heros Looking After Me While I Fight Cancer At Duke Raleigh Cancer Center

I have a huge team at Duke Raleigh Cancer Center looking after me. I want to introduce you to my team a couple at a time so you know I am in good hands, and I want to share these angels looking after me. These are fun people dealing with serious issues and make it tolerable for the patients and themselves.

This is Pat who accesses my port and draws blood for my labs on chemo days. We have the best time together and I can't say for sure, but I can totally imagine her in the 60's with flowers in her hair in a VW micro bus. I accuse her of using dull rusted needles and she never denies it. She is an absolute sweetheart putting up with me, or is it the other way round. Our sense of humor is equal and on the same level.

Tammy is one of Dr. Agrawal's nurses and has been with us from the beginning. She is quick to interpret what the Doctor is saying and makes sure every point and question is covered. Anytime we meet in the building, she stops to say hello and ask how I am even on non-doctor days. Love her to pieces and look forward when she comes in the room. That smile ain't fake, but she has a very deep concern for all her patients, but of course I'm her favorite!

 Vickie is definitely a perfect match for my sense of humor in the infusion pod. We have a ball together passing jabs at each other. Our running joke comes from last year when I couldn't swallow anything and was severely dehydrated. She said we needed to connect me to a water hose and turn it on full blast. My next visit I told her I took her advice and it worked! The look of shock on her face was priceless. What I actually did was go outside and turned up a bottle of water and chugged it down. Most of it stayed down! I did it outside for obvious reasons, but after that I was able to swallow some fluids! She's still a sweetheart and we can't wait to verbally trade punchlines.

  


Marcia is another fun RN and is all business when it comes to making sure my port is working both ways. She can always get it going without calling Pat. I don't get her as often as the others on the list, but she's always on the ball and always has that smile on her face.

Tricia came on board late last year and puts up with me now and then. They all seem to have a high tolerance for whatever I come up with. You know me, I attack seriously ridiculous situations with seriously ridiculous sarcasm, and they all expect me to come up with something off the wall. She is very aware that I will come up with something totally off the wall.

 I first met Jennifer on the other side of the building in Infusion POD A when I was getting fluids. I fell asleep immediately and had no clue when she checked my armband and she had to wake me up after the alarm went off when the bag was empty. I still fall asleep while getting fluids, but she takes credit that POD A is the best sleeping room. I guess when I trust the caretakers, I have nothing to worry about.

I pick on Sarah whether she's working with me or not. When I asked her to take a selfie with me, her first question was what am I going to do, make a voodoo doll? I hadn't thought of it, but they do poke needles in me, so why not? Jennifer started laughing and I asked her if she had a strange pain in her shoulder. One never knows!

Kristen got a little break from me last year when she had a baby, but she's gotten her fill of me since she got back. I asked her if it was hard coming back to work and she replied she was so glad to be back with her patients and a normal routine. It's very clear she loves what she does and gives 100% to make us patients comfortable.

Anee' is a newer addition to my hero list. She has only put up with me a few times, but enough to know to expect the unexpected from me and earn a selfie with my bubbly face. She and Vickie often tag team me to see how off the wall they can push me. She's definitely someone you want on your team!

Amber used to work on the floor and has put up with me several times. She's now my Nurse Navigator after replacing Jane who got an awesome opportunity in Boston. She's not the kind of navigator that gives tours of the building, but I'm sure she would if I asked. Her job is to help prepare patients on  how to navigate the treatment process and make sure appointments are aligned between the Doctors and procedures, as well as tax advise and how to assemble a great support system to get through the process. 

Kim is the Nursing Assistant for the floor and one of the hardest working people I have ever met. I was squatting down in this picture so we'd both fit in the frame, but what she lacks in height is made up with her great attitude with everyone around her. She does not greet strangers and I don't think she has ever met a stranger. To look at her, you'd think she was too young to work here, but in fact she's a Grandmother! I guess that's why she tolerates me so well.

 

 Keith has been there for every chemo treatment and surgery. All cancer patients need both professional and non-professional support teams and as you can see, I have the best of the best backing me up. Keith drove me to every appointment when I couldn't have driven and even obliged when I requested taking the long way home through the country, just to be away from the hospital or home. 




Last, but not least, I have a huge network of prayer warriors backing me up from numerous churches, friends and family. I really do appreciate every one of you that have been keeping me in your thoughts and prayers. Thank you all for your help.

How I Was Made: A Father's Day Tribute 2017 To The Three Most Influential Dads In My Life

All my life I have heard the statement "You're just like your Granddaddy or Uncle or other relative". I have to admit, in a few ways, it is totally true for the three men that shaped the old man on the porch you know today. More often than not, I was compared to my Mom's dad, Lewis "Eddie" Brown.

I never understood the comparisons except we were both tall and lanky, but to be fair, he was 60 years old when I was born and he passed away when I was 15, so as a little kid he seemed to be a very old man, although I definitely have his sense of humor and facial expressions and cutting sarcasm. I do get it honest, as we say in the south. In a way, I think I was a little scared of him because you never knew when he was seriously stealing your nose or other tricks old folks used to do to entertain themselves. He chain smoked unfiltered Lucky Strikes and though I don't remember ever seeing him drunk, but there was a plentiful supply of liquor bottles thrown behind the barn next to the garden, but my Uncle Jack freely told some of the stories of "adventures he had with alcohol. It sounds like Grandaddy Brown was the life of the party!

Only recently did I see the physical resemblance such as these younger versions of ourselves pictured here. Actually it's pretty scary how much his younger self looked like my younger self in these pictures. I guess I have to admit I do have a large amount of his DNA inside me. As I grew older, I learned he wasn't such a scary guy and was pretty cool to joke with. My Uncle Jack also got a lot of his traits and that's why he and I bonded so closely through the years. Peas in a pod, I guess, but I always related with Uncle Jack and Aunt Dorothy which both inherited his personality traits, although I loved all my Uncles on that side of the family. 

As I have mentioned before, Grandaddy and Grandma Brown lived in Pine Ridge which was 6 miles from our house, so I didn't get to see them as often as I saw my Mizelle Grandparents, which lived next door. I did get my Engineering training from them and watched some of the best TV at their house. It was hard to pull me away from their black and white TV set when Dennis the Menace, My Favorite Martian, Ed Sullivan and the Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom was on Sunday evenings. I can still see Marlon Perkins hiding safely behind a bush while Jim wrestled a wild animal in a swamp.

Granddaddy Brown did not own a car and I never knew of him driving, so I assume his drinking buddies kept him mobile. They often hung out at Taylor's Store and he was famous for his weekend barbecue chicken recipe cooked while sipping his Four Roses whiskey, and I'm sure talking about his experiences in WWI.

Granddaddy William G "Bud" Mizelle owned 100 acres of farmland and woodlands and was always busy. He never sit around the house except to read the newspaper delivered by mail, so it was always yesterday's news, but that didn't matter to him. He was pretty much up to date with current events. He had two tobacco barns and over the years hand split nearly every tobacco stick used on the farm. He was a ingenious inventor creating tools he needed around the farm instead of wasting a day going to town to buy one. I definitely learned how to stay busy and prioritize multiple projects from him. He raised hogs so we always had a plentiful supply of  pork in the smokehouse and freezers and I can tell you they had some good eating as the neighbors came over on a cold day to process the hogs. I say "process" to be delicate, but it was just a basic hog killing and there's nothing glamorous about it, except the food. Grandma always had some baked sweet potatoes to go with the cracklings and fresh tenderloin fried up in a big kettle on an open fire in the yard. 

I don't recall Granddaddy Bud drinking alcohol, but he loved his Diet Rite cola or Tab drinks as he was diabetic, followed by a Dutch Masters cigar or red Man Chewing tobacco. We always had a plentiful supply of bee sting remedy in the summer. Since I was barefoot all summer long and stepping on several bees, I can attest chewing tobacco does indeed remove the sting from a bee sting. Cuts were treated with Pinee  Oil, an antiseptic used on farms when castrating livestock, and worked on a variety of farm injuries to the family. It seemed to cure anything and is back on the market. Granddaddy Bud loved wrasslin', and would come over every Saturday evening to watch Jim Ctockett Productions Atlantic Coast Wrestling on WRAL, because his antenna would not pick them up. Snowy at best at our house, but I can see him now sitting on the edge of his chair swinging his fists as if he was in the ring with them.

My Dad, Ethan Mizelle certainly never had an enemy and got along with everybody. He worked as a mechanic at the local Chevrolet dealership and could diagnose engine problems in his sleep. It was very clear when I got my drivers license that if I abused my car, he'd know exactly what caused it. That wasn't likely since my first car was a turquoise 4 door Chevy Bel Aire with a 283 engine and a two speed power glide transmission and a top speed of 75 mph. (I assume)  Luckily I never had any mechanical problems with it, except for frequent flat tires from the recaps I kept on it. He installed an under dash air conditioner from scrapped parts that would blow ice crystals out the vents in the summertime.

When he left the dealership, he drove an oil truck for several years. He loved doing that because after he delivered gasoline to the little stores at every crossroad, he could have a nab and Coca Cola and catch up on the community gossip for a few minutes. He still piddled on cars in his garage after work and did maintenance on the widow women's cars in the community. Just like Granddaddy Bud, he was never sitting in the house until it got too dark to be outside. He'd often let me tag along on trips to the local country store at  night to discuss cars and politics while my friends and I played outside. My Mom worked at the store for Mr. Carlis and Ms Helen during the day, so she rarely wanted to hang out there at night.   

While I inherited a lot of dad's traits and personality, I did not get his music gene. He bought a Gibson guitar when he was 16 years old and taught himself how to play, sing and have a grand ole time with other musicians in the neighborhood. I wasn't a big Hank Williams fan back then, but we often had a living room full of musicians singing his tunes and country gospel favorites. He did get my sister and me to sing in church with him a few times, until my voice changed into the off key tones I have today. He tried to teach us a few chords, but the fret board had deep grooves worn in the rosewood from his rough hands and constant playing, making it hard to make his favorite chords, C, D, E, F, G and A. 

I can easily name off a long list of traits I inherited from all three of these men. True Fathers in every sense of the word and three of the greatest role models I could possibly have. I miss all three of them, but I can look in the mirror, smirk at something, and be damned if you ever tell me I can't do something, because it will get done!