Margaret’s Memories:
I first met Curt at a football game in Pilot Point. He was a happy funny guy and fun to be with. We had much in common as far as values, interests and family background. Throughout our marriage he always supported me and my decisions. I always knew he loved me. I always knew he needed me. He made it possible for me to go back to college and earn my degrees. He was always there for the kids when they had problems I couldn’t handle. He tolerated my “free dogs” and learned to love them as I did; and they loved him because he gave them lots of snacks. His devotional titled “Free Dogs Are Not Free” will be remembered in the Winnsboro church when he compared the cost of our salvation to the real cost of getting a free dog. He was a wonderful, steady, generous companion. I will miss him very much, but I am comforted by the knowledge that he is now happy with Jesus in a new healthy heavenly body, reunited with his loved ones who went before him.
Carisse’s Memories:
Dad had the best laugh, when you really got him going. It was a hearty, burst of laughter with a little bit of wheeze that made his belly shake and his eyes disappear. He was a good storyteller, most of my memories of him are of us doing mundane things while he told his stories. Dad never met a stranger. He was always so at ease with talking to people of any kind and I think us kids inherited that from watching him. He always protected, provided for, and loved us. He was an organized accountant, even at home, I know because I had to balance my checkbook in front of him every Saturday morning when I was 16. To this day, I have my own filing cabinet I take pride in telling him about. On vacations when I was little I would hope for a hotel with a pool so that Dad would take me swimming for hours. He loved to swim. He taught me to fish, and he taught me how to drive on the pastures of land they own now, using the red GMC truck that still sits in his driveway today (he never got rid of anything ever). He was generous to a fault, ordering things from the TV that Mom didn’t ask for, and giving to any charity that would send a letter. When I was in 2nd grade, we convinced him to let us get a small dog named Dottie that would live inside with us and be my best friend. This plan backfired however, when he would sneak her scraps from the table and the dog became HIS best friend instead. At my brother’s memorial, Dad recounted a time when we lived in Lewisville and at one point had six cars stacked in our suburban driveway. It was a pain when someone “needed to get out” and we had to rearrange everything. “BUT” he said, “…those were the good days.”
And he’s right. Dad provided a home full of memories for us to grow up with, and those were the good days.
I first met Curt at a football game in Pilot Point. He was a happy funny guy and fun to be with. We had much in common as far as values, interests and family background. Throughout our marriage he always supported me and my decisions. I always knew he loved me. I always knew he needed me. He made it possible for me to go back to college and earn my degrees. He was always there for the kids when they had problems I couldn’t handle. He tolerated my “free dogs” and learned to love them as I did; and they loved him because he gave them lots of snacks. His devotional titled “Free Dogs Are Not Free” will be remembered in the Winnsboro church when he compared the cost of our salvation to the real cost of getting a free dog. He was a wonderful, steady, generous companion. I will miss him very much, but I am comforted by the knowledge that he is now happy with Jesus in a new healthy heavenly body, reunited with his loved ones who went before him.
Carisse’s Memories:
Dad had the best laugh, when you really got him going. It was a hearty, burst of laughter with a little bit of wheeze that made his belly shake and his eyes disappear. He was a good storyteller, most of my memories of him are of us doing mundane things while he told his stories. Dad never met a stranger. He was always so at ease with talking to people of any kind and I think us kids inherited that from watching him. He always protected, provided for, and loved us. He was an organized accountant, even at home, I know because I had to balance my checkbook in front of him every Saturday morning when I was 16. To this day, I have my own filing cabinet I take pride in telling him about. On vacations when I was little I would hope for a hotel with a pool so that Dad would take me swimming for hours. He loved to swim. He taught me to fish, and he taught me how to drive on the pastures of land they own now, using the red GMC truck that still sits in his driveway today (he never got rid of anything ever). He was generous to a fault, ordering things from the TV that Mom didn’t ask for, and giving to any charity that would send a letter. When I was in 2nd grade, we convinced him to let us get a small dog named Dottie that would live inside with us and be my best friend. This plan backfired however, when he would sneak her scraps from the table and the dog became HIS best friend instead. At my brother’s memorial, Dad recounted a time when we lived in Lewisville and at one point had six cars stacked in our suburban driveway. It was a pain when someone “needed to get out” and we had to rearrange everything. “BUT” he said, “…those were the good days.”
And he’s right. Dad provided a home full of memories for us to grow up with, and those were the good days.
Wes’ Memories:
From my earliest memories Dad loved watching sports. While he was not fond of the coaching perspective, he encouraged me to play whatever I wanted. This came as a duty to my Mom whom wound up taking me to most of my practices as Dad was at work. Dad attended every Soccer, Baseball, Football, and Basketball game I ever played, even leaving from work early to make the trek from downtown Dallas to Lewisville to be there on time. I was not always sure where he sat until the referee called a "bad foul" on me, then you knew right where he was in the stands with the boisterous "AH COME ON REF"!
Most of my memories of my Dad were from us being outside working and or camping. When my brother and I were growing up he had a travel trailer that he pulled with a truck that got 8mpg and had an 18 gallon gas tank. Every 100 miles, we would pull over to fill up and he would say "here we go again, sixty cents a gallon, I tell ya, they just stick it to you".
There were so many funny memories of him on the road trips. While I know he had a great time, he seemed like Clark Griswald trying to get the tent set up or the camper set just right and nothing would go together like he planned. When he got everything set liked he wanted it, he would sit in his folding chair with a tea and finally try to relax, which is right about the time the park ranger show would be starting and he would have to get up from his chair again.
Dad always loved being outside and watching nature and would say "isn’t it pretty out here". I always respected him for being a kid from a small farming town growing up poor and pitching watermelons on trucks to putting himself through college, and making his way to be a VP of the bank, but still longing to be back in the countryside. I thank him a lot for being a great provider and instilling the love of the outdoors and a strong work ethic in me.
Dad always had a strict hand and was permanent in his thoughts, but he still gave me the room and freedom to make my own choices and mistakes. I look back and think my brother and I might have had what he always wanted to be able to do growing up: the freedom to ride your bike till after dark, have fast cars, able to build and solve any problems that came along because there were always just enough resources to get it done, and we did not have to throw those watermelons till dark.
Dad’s emotions always changed from one minute to the next, from crying in a movie (usually a war story) to yelling at the cowboys, to seeing him talk with anyone he had ever just met like he had known them forever (even if they were done talking 15 minutes ago). There were many times he just annoyed the snot out me for what he did or said. But like the line in the movie "Parenthood" when the grandma talks about the roller coaster, she says, "I always wanted to go again. You know, it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together! Some didn't like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it."
Dad was definitely a roller coaster, but like going to see a theme park you used to visit that is not there anymore, you miss it and the memories.
