Where would we be without them? I hope if you are a Father you were feted yesterday. I had a wonderful day with my family. I now have a new bottle of expensive cologne and the promise of a pair of expensive flip-flops with arch supports built in. The canvas straps on my old pair are fraying and could go at any moment. I suppose you might be wondering about the rather large head stone to commemorate the day. Well this is a monument erected to honor the memory of my great great grandfather, Reverend Thomas Price. It is located in a small cemetery in south Mississippi. It contains a brief history of the family carved in stone on both sides, and a list of the direct decendants. The brick pavers were purchased by living decendants to pay for the memorial. I never knew the man, but he must have been a man who many considered worthy. I can make this deduction because I knew his great grandson, my father. It seems strange now that I'm older to consider I've know some of my friends longer than I knew my father. He died in 1963 on the day before my sixteenth birthday. I knew him for fifteen years. He has been gone now for forty six years and he was forty six when he died. The difference is I carry his genetic code and I can still remember him as clearly today as I ever did. Poems are created from memories brought to life again. I wrote this poem about my dad just a few short years ago. I am proud to have my paver next to his on the monument to my great great grandfather. WHAT’S IN A NAME?
Over 40 years ago, he died.
I still miss him everyday.
Quiet country boy – Brought up hard.
Learned early how to make his way.
Strong from work and tan from sun.
Dark hair and winning smile.
I never saw him waiver, change,
in good times or in trial.
He loved hard work, family.
Served his country. Spoke the truth.
Taught with bible and example.
Twigs need bending in their youth.
Outdoors was his favorite place.
Hunting, fishing, sun, fresh air.
He taught me manly lessons
when there were no women there.
Grave illness struck, he fought hard,
working right up to the end.
He crossed the bar so peacefully
to meet his Lord, and friend.
The world won’t know how great he was.
He had no wealth or fame.
Because he would not compromise
the value of his name.
I’m older now than he was
when he left this mortal frame.
But hope, that like my dad I leave
the treasure of a name.
Dennis Price
I had forgotten about this second little poem also penned to honor the strength of his memory.
Memory
I heard my father’s voice.
Long gone, but still there.
Dennis Price
