In Memoriam

When I was a little girl, I thought my dad was the handsomest, smartest, nicest man in the world. As an adult, I still think so. My dad could fix anything - including dinner!- and if he couldn't physically get in there to fix it himself, he could sure tell YOU how to do it. He just understood how things worked. That was such a gift.
He was a silver-tongued salesman. Selling furniture, insurance and his ideas. He could cajole you into mowing his field (or buying a campground) (or cleaning his sailboat!) and have you believe it was more fun than anything else you could be doing.
He loved to play games and he wanted to win. The score-keeper better keep on her toes! Of course, we all knew Balderdash was his favorite. He could bluff and keep a straight face with the best of them (but we pretty much always knew which definition was his!).
A true sailor at heart (though he served in the Army), he always owned a boat of some sort - from "Gene's Dream" to the little sailboat that sits in the sideyard today. Some of my most memorable and fondest memories are of boating excursions. I especially remember the trip from Powhatan Creek down the inland water ways to Manteo, N.C. When we had to cross Hampton Roads (an international thoroughfare) and encountered waves that towered over our little 25-foot cabin cruiser, Dad instructed us to go below, put on our life jackets and sit tight. I can still see him as I looked up from the galley...calmly steering us through those dangerous waters and whistling as tho' he had no doubt that all would be fine.
I remember the creek, the little green house, Five Forks, Saluda, horses, the campground, brunswick stew & barbeques and dancing!
Lately, Dad enjoyed quieter activities - watching the deer graze in his backyard and the hummingbirds sip nectar from feeders at the kitchen window; and rooting for his baseball team, the Baltimore Orioles (who, by the way, have a winning streak as I write this!), watching the game on his laptop; and being with the family to celebrate someone's birthday or anniversary or holiday, or just supper at the Fisherman's Galley. I know he was so proud of his family.
But, I will most remember Dad for his infinite optimism. Call it faith, if you will, but I truly believe he didn't think anything bad could happen if you went at a thing with the right attitude. And, his attitude was one of love and trust. He expected good things. He expected to like you and you couldn't help liking him back. His motto "I love everybody and I hope it stays that way" was so Daddy. Arms open wide to pull you in close, you could find great comfort, love and hope in that hug! Always, always a smile...how we will miss that smile and the twinkle in those beautiful blue eyes.
I'll always treasure being able to speak with him at the hospital the day before he passed away - and well remember his last words to me: "Deb, I think that nurse wants ya'll to go home!"
We did, and so, I believe, has Dad.
Love you. Deb