Why do we love this man--giver and keeper of our lives? He came out of nowhere special--from the sagebrush,
the blacklands, the piney woods. He was a smart boy, but not too smart, because he never said it himself, accepted it humbly from others.
He could do a good day's work--knew how, but would rather go fishing, or tell tall tales, or watch geese in their homing instincts, veeing north. He holds no awards for philosophy; doesn't claim to know what's in all those books. The things he doesn't know, he learns from his mistakes
He has weathered harsh winters and arid summers, good politics and bad, and learned to stand alone on his convictions when necessary, yet it takes so little to make him glad--an open door, kitchen fragrances, baby smiles, good stories, strong coffee, the biggest fish.
Why do we love this man? Because we respect him; we count his life worthwhile, we know his gentleness. We know he remembers he was a boy before he was a man.
Evelyn (Excerpted from an Editorial written for the Henderson Daily News.)