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!
