The memory I have the strongest of Dad was how he let me "help" hin work on cars. And of him coming home from the fire department smelling like brush fire smoke and being all dirty. I also remember going to the grocery store with him, proud as all beat hell to be with my dad after he had been working on someone's car and was all greasy and grimy in his dungarees (the denim jeans and jacket they wore at the fire station when they weren't fighting a fire.) He usually wore a V-Neck tee shirt too, and for some reason I have a strong memory of seein his very tanned and a bit wrinkled neck in back, and his salt and pepper chest hairs peeking out from the V of his tee shirt. I remember how he'd get mad at a car for "not cooperating" with him and he'd call the wrench he was using a "jack ass" and end up throwing it across the garage. lol. I remember him singing Tennesse Ernie Ford songs with that album playing on Sunday Morning while we were waiting for Mom to finish getting ready so we could all go to church together. There are so many memories, the teasing and playing around and my Mom saying "Kenneth!" at him all the time because Dad was doing something playful and messing something of Mom's up in the process. lol.. Nothing too bad, just something like opening the oven when she had a cake baking in there and Dad stuck his finger in it to taste it and see if it was done yet or not. lol. Or like standing in front of the refridgerator with a jar of pickles in his hand and he would drink the pickle juice right out of the jar like that. =) Or Dad sneaking up behind Mom while she was rolling out cookies and kissing the back of her neck and making her jump and drop the rolling pin or something. That'd always make Mom say "Kenneth!" in a not so quiet tone of voice. There's too many memories to write here so I'll get to the last one I have of my dad. He passed away right before Easter and I thought surely God would raise Dad from the dead because he was such a good man, that Dad would be given life again like God did for Lazarus. But He didn't. And I stayed mad at God for a long time after we buried my Dad and I realized God wasn't going to make him live again, not here on earth anyway. So the last memory is of Dad laying in a coffin and me wanting to kiss him good bye when we walked past him after the funeral. My uncle held me back and wouldn't let me get too close to Dad for some reason. I remember thinking my Dad didn't look real, that he looked sort of pasty faced like a manequin or something. All I wanted to do was smell his Old Spice one more time and kiss him good bye and tell him I loved him. Today I'm glad my uncle held me back. I stayed mad for a long time towards my uncle for doing that to me. But today I guess it wouldn't have been very pleasant to kiss my Dad's forehead that day. He wasn't really there anyway, my Dad's twin told me. He was in Heaven with God and he'll be there waiting for us to join him someday.