Dad was…

Dad was born Onus Franklin Spires on June 21, 1929 in a small town in Paden, Mississippi.  His dad was a logger and for reasons unknown, Dad became a truck driver.  He quit school in the seventh grade.  I assume it was because he needed to work.  Work was all Dad ever knew, as a matter of fact.

Dad was a gardener, an outstanding gardener.  Every time I dabble in my small unwanted garden, I think of Dad and his love for gardening.  Up until the time his health failed him, he planted faithfully every year and always reaped a harvest.  As he got older, others worried that he would try to do too much or get too hot out in the sun.  I cheered him on, though.  He had lived a full rich life and I would rather lose him while he was doing what he loved.  Why live a life that of caution and give up the things you love?  Better to die in a labor of love than in a recliner watching the news on television.

Dad was a fisherman, a great one and a simple one.  He loved to fish for crappie, but was just as content to catch a large catfish, a mess of perch or an occasional bass.  And Dad knew how to cook these fish, along with the obligatory hush puppies.  Dad liked his fish whole, but was content to filet them for everyone else.

Dad was a musician.  He played guitar, but his specialty was a mandolin.  Over the years he gave up playing, and eventually his arthritis made it impossible.  Mom used to talk about country music great Ray Price offering Dad a job.  I believe it, although Dad, in his modesty, didn’t seem to want to talk about it.  Maybe he considered it an opportunity missed.  I really don’t know.  I do know that Dad had little appreciation for entertainers who walked onstage in jeans and a t-shirt.  I’m not saying it’s wrong, just telling you what Dad thought.  He believed that if you were going to stand before a group of people to speak to them or to entertain them, you should dress the part.  Every time I watch the Vincent & Dailey show on RFD Television, I think about how Dad would enjoy their music, and would also appreciate the way they dressed.

Dad was a cook, an excellent cook.  I mentioned the fried fish and hush puppies above.  But Dad knew his way around the kitchen as well.  His boneless ribs were legendary.  He never fried chicken and made gravy like my Mom did, but he could hold his own with anyone in the culinary arts.

Dad was a carpenter.  He was a very capable carpenter.  But I have to tell you, Dad believed that 90% was good enough. It didn’t have to be perfect or pretty.  It did have to be square and functional. I guess you could say he focused on function over form.  The first home he owned was a Jim Walter “shell” home that he finished out himself.  I have fond memories of helping him (by holding this or that and handing him the tools) and have told the story numerous times of being frustrated that he left a bathtub faucet at a 45 degree angle.  His response was, “Water will still run out of it and that’s all that matters.”

Dad was a truck driver. He drove for more than 60 years, hauling chickens, lumber, steel and a lot of other stuff.  He only had one accident over that time and it occurred when a drunk driver approached Dad and a car in front of him in the wrong lane on a bridge.  Dad risked his own life by cutting the tires sharply to avoid running over the car in front which, if I recall, had started to back up to avoid the oncoming vehicle.  His truck drove across the trunk of the car, rather than running over it.  Dad could have ended up going over the side of the bridge, but thankfully, he didn’t.  All four elderly occupants of the care were safe and thankful.

Dad was a husband and father.  Not a perfect one, but the best he knew how to be.  He’d be the first to admit that there were failures, especially in the early years. As his children, we observed and experienced many of them.   But Dad loved Mom passionately and ultimately became the man she prayed he would.   Dad always expressed regret and guilt over the mistakes of his youth and early years of our childhood.  But Dad supported a wife and five children, having only a 6^th grade education, by driving that truck and trailer rig, week in and week out, whether he felt like it or not.  Hard work was all he knew.  And while Dad made mistakes, he made sure that we always had a place to live, clothing on our back and food in our stomachs.  To him, that was the essence of fatherhood.  As I look back at my own mistakes as a husband and father, I have found it easier and easier to forgive and overlook Dad’s mistakes as I hope my wife and children have forgiven mine.  As I said earlier, I have no doubt that Dad did the best he knew how.  And in those later years, Dad became a Christian and became a wonderful father, and a loving grandfather who cherished each of his grandchildren.  They were his pride and joy and he celebrated their accomplishments and successes.

Dad was a child of God.  He was a late arrival to the Kingdom.  God saved Dad when he was in his early 50’s.  But Dad was, as we say, “gloriously saved”.  He was a new creature and God blessed him and Mom with many good years after he became a Christian.  Dad’s last words were “God is good!”

Dad never got completely over the errors of his younger days.  They haunted him up until the day he left us.  I reminded him that we all have made mistakes.  I also reminded him that he finished well.   I have made many of the same mistakes my Dad made, and I guess that is unavoidable.  But my prayer is that I, like Dad, will finish well.

Dad, we love you.  We miss you every day.  But we’re thankful for your life, your love, your testimony and your legacy.  You, Mom and David have a great eternity.