When Fred would come here , we had the cottonelle with oil in it. Fred would be chewing tobacca and wiping his mouth with that toilet paper ,griping that his face was greasey, i remember, Reba tooting and Fred saying huh, what did you say, so many funny and good memories, he was a fine man, that people respected. he loved to eat ice cream every night . out of the carton.
Remember how he knew if someone had been there by looking at the gravel in the drive way. Now that's a serious talent.. There was nothing getting by him. I loved to walk to church with him he was always so happy to take you anywhere.
I remember him telling me,
" scratch that foot". I remember overalls, and tobacco twists. Gar heads hanging from his shed. I remember him letting me mess with his ole bird dog mike. But what I remember most is that even though I wasn't his blood grandson, he always treated me as if I was. I wish I could hear "dad burn it" just one more time.
The old Cellar....Boy I loved playing down in that cellar and on that cellar door. He would come down there and sit.I guess the thing that sticks with me is when we all went fishing at Washita river (all Night) there in Daughrty...man i must have been 12 or 13 thinking i could hang with them, boy was i wrong...I wish I had his energy and passion he did.I remember coming back that nect morning and i couldn't even keep my eyes open i was so tired.Man i miss him.
i remember when papa used to put those ole pointy elbows in your leg to get you to scratch his back or foot, also he had an ole car that us boys and my dad( allen) was in we were hunting from the car but papas speedometer was making a real high sceatching sound all of us could hear but papa couldnt know wonder we couldnt see any deer that day ..
I also remember him also drinkin milk.........And when he had bees I stepped on one and he took the hurt i way as I said to him and he kissed me and told me it would quit hurting in a little bit........Man I miss him
speaking of papaws milk.. it was always in the same glass.. that plactic one.. never emptied.. & always sat back into the fridge til the next meal where mamaw would just add more milk
Do you ever remember him drinking anything other than milk when he was eating dinner? Always would sit in the kitchen by himself eating sardines and crackers and a glass of milk.
My Papaw was the only Papaw I ever had and he was the best!! He always called me his little burned biscuit. I knew as soon as I walked through the door he'd be happy to see me. You could count on him saying"dad burn it" if things were'nt going right. I loved his overalls.. I miss him so much.
My Memory
Shirley Feb 28, 2009
My Memory
LINDA B Feb 25, 2008
Mr observant...
Kim Stafford Feb 08, 2008
My Memory
Terry Haigler Feb 04, 2008
" scratch that foot". I remember overalls, and tobacco twists. Gar heads hanging from his shed. I remember him letting me mess with his ole bird dog mike. But what I remember most is that even though I wasn't his blood grandson, he always treated me as if I was. I wish I could hear "dad burn it" just one more time.
Old Cellar/fishing
Jeff Bratcher Feb 03, 2008
My Memory
GREG BRATCHER Feb 03, 2008
Milk and Bees
Alic Long Jan 31, 2008
My Memory
Kierstin Jan 23, 2008
My Daddy
Marilyn Ferguson Jan 22, 2008
To turn my thoughts to Dad
Thank him for the home he gave
For all the things we had.
We think about the fleeting years
Too quickly, gone for good
It seems like only yesterday
I’d go back if I could.
A time when Dad was always there
No matter what the weather
Always strong when things went wrong
He held our lives together.
He strived so hard from day to day
And never once complained
With steady hands, he worked the land
And kept the family name.
He taught us that hard work pays off
You reap just what you sow
He said that if you tend your crops
Your field will overflow.
My harvest has been bountiful
He taught me how to give
In his firm and steadfast way
He taught me how to live.
Dad dwells among the angels now
He left us much too soon
He glides across a golden field
Above the harvest moon.
I see him in the fields of grain
He rides upon the wind
And when my path is beaten down
He picks me up again.
Author/Written By:
Marilyn Ferguson
©2003
My Memory
Dawn Dec 20, 2007
Milk
Jeremy Ray Nov 24, 2007
My Memory
Kim Stafford Nov 18, 2007