Dad

This is my dad!

I know.. I know.. your saying, "Peg.. I see where you get your good looks."

Well, thanks folks.. but thats not why I show you a picture of my dad.

I think it important for me to write about him but also for you to see, just where some of my "genes" come from.

My dad is the son of a Southern Protestant preacher. He grew up in rural Tennessee picking cotton and was beat if he didnt pick his proper weight load for the day. True story!

My dad..Dave.. had 10 brothers and sisters that all lived in a 1 bedroom house with 1 woodstove.

Dad use to tell me stories about how: If he got caught doing something he wasnt suppose to be doing, and new he was gett'n a whoop'n.. he'd run into the bedroom and hide under the bed, where he new my grandma couldnt reach him.. that was until she got the broom and started poking him.

My grandparents were very loving, my grandmother cooked everything from sratch and cooked all day long. There is a lot of my grandmother in my dad.

Because of his upbring'n, he has always been very proud, very strong, very much the person that you go to when you needed advice or needed to be told exactly how things were..

Dad had a serious stroke almost six years ago come September, and it destroyed his livlihood for a "bit". When a Southern man can no longer work to provide for his family, walk (he wobbles with a cane now) or see (out of one eye,or good out of the other).. it does something to him mentally.

He has embraced his retirement now, and enjoys his days with the dog..and his wife. He now wobbles around the yard, looking for little projects, he cannes things from the garden and tries out new recipes.

You think Im organized and anal... you should see this guy!! You think I have neat handwriting... you should see my dads.He is also very creative--

He's grilling in this picture.