Prologue:
The story you are about to read is that of a man who came into the world just nineteen years after the turn of the century. He was the son of a farmer and always loved to work the land.
When his parents passed, It was his life, passion and avocation. The land served him well and provided a modest living for him and his family. As world war II began he left and joined the navy because he felt it was his duty. The story below picks up some years later and so it began.

A Man to Be Remembered

It seemed I'd known him my entire life, but in reality I'd met him when I was fifteen, I remember it well, his first words to me were "How ya doin’ gal?" It seemed funny when he said it. I'd been taught to say, "Pleased to make you acquaintance or something much more formal than the easy words that rolled off his tongue. Over the next forty years it became the standard greeting between us.

He was my father-in-law but since I'd never known my own father and my step father didn't feel the need to be a parent, he became the image of a dad I'd never known.

He was not an educated man, having only completed the first few years of grade school, but he was a man of great knowledge. He kept up on current events by listening to the radio and reading the daily newspaper. He took great interest in new things that were being invented, without the desire to run out and experience every new gadget that came along. He bought only what he needed and nothing more. He was difficult to buy presents for since he didn't collect anything or have a hobby. His passion was farming, and not many of us could afford a new hay baler or combine. So, without fail, it would be a new flannel shirt, He'd open it and grin, saying it was just what he needed. His smile is something I will always remember, it lit up his whole face, his eyes would sparkle and his dimples would show.

He was born in 1919, in a rural area of Virginia, When his mother passed away he continued to live and work on the old farm, only leaving to serve his country during the war. When he returned he went to work in a cellophane factory. His job was not an easy one, he worked shift work but that didn't stop him from farming. He still plowed the fields, raised cattle and hogs and had a garden that would supply enough vegetables to feed a small army. He was always busy.

Sometimes, when I'd visit, he'd offer me a glass of homemade wine. You've never tasted anything so good. On a few rare occasions he'd tell tales of the times when he was in the war or more often, of his experiences working at the lead and zinc mine, or of the ghosts encountered on the long walks though the dark woods on his way to or from work.

His was a hard life. There were no vacations because he'd never leave his animals for someone else to care for. I don't believe he spent a night away from home after he returned from the Navy. I never heard him say he wished he could get away for a week. His farm was his life.

A month before he passed away I went to see him and when I left he said, “Come back to see us, gal, you're always welcome." His son and I had divorced twenty six years earlier, but as far as I was concerned he was still my father-in-law. When I got the news of his death I couldn't imagine how life would be without him. But, life does go on. My son and grandson will miss him terribly but their memories of him will always be treasured.

He died, as he lived, on his beloved tractor that had carried him over many miles of fields and pasture, only yards from where he was born 82 years ago. Yes, we'll miss him, but only his body is gone, his spirit lives on in all of us.
Kathleen 2002

Epilogue:

As I arrived at the funeral home to meet with my sister and the other family members, the sun shown in the sky as those who knew this man gathered to offer their respects. He passed as he had lived, on the land. He layed in the casket in a clean crisp pair of overalls and the best flannel shirt that could be found. This was the way everyone wanted to remember him. As we went to our cars to go to the gravesite police officers arrived on motorcycles to escort the procession to the final place of rest. Just before we arrived at the family cemetary both officers sped ahead and were waiting at the turn on either side of the road. Both stood ramrod straight at attention and when we turned gave him a hand salute that they held until the entire procession had passed. As we arrived at the site we were met by a naval officer and four navy personnel at attention to do honors to his military service. The caskets flag was folded and presented to his widow. Taps played in the air and he had returned to the land that he loved.