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Daddy's Hands
By:Holly Dunn

"I remember Daddy's hands folded silently in prayer, And reaching out to hold me when I had a nightmare. You could read quite a story in the callouses and lines, Years of work and worry, had left their mark behind. I remember Daddy's hands how they held my mama tight, And patted my back for something done right There're things I've forgotten that I loved about the man, But I'll always remember The love in Daddy's hands... Daddy's hands, were soft and kind when I was crying, Daddy's hands, were hard as steel when I done wrong. Daddy's hands weren't always gentle, But I've come to understand There was always love in Daddy's hands..."

Dad in 1968 8-31-21 to 11-24-97

On November 24, 1997 my Father finally lost the war his body waged with Congestive Heart Failure that had raged for over 33 years.The battles were many... the artificial valve in 1965... one of the first to be done in open heart surgery, the bypasses. The onboard De- fibrilator and the pace maker, all just minor victories that bought him a few more years. He left behind a wife, a daughter (myself), four grand daughters and one grandson all of which miss him very very much. During his 76 years he saw alot, suffered greatly, and complained very little. He was a quiet man, with a heart of gold,who loved his family and his country above all else. When WW II came... and the Navy would not accept him because of a heart murmer left him through the ravages of Rheumatic Fever he turned and joined the Merchant Marines and serv- ed in Army Transport. I remember many stories when I was little of his time in the Merchant Marines... but none of the important facts that would truly help me pay homage here that he deserves. I know he had his ship shot out from under them a couple of times... That several more times they barely limped back to harbor. I'll never forget how he looked when he spoke about firing the weapon at the attacking planes, how his hands froze on the grips of the gun, or the look in his eyes when he spoke of the enemy shooting our men in the water for sport when they'd sunk their vessel. That he was there the day after the Infamous bombing of our ships in Pearl Harbor... and he served in moving the re- mains and in other clean up details. When he left the service there were no thanks... and he never complained. When he died... he did not receive the flag or salute the VA would have allowed him because there was no service to perform it at. All their limited income allowed for was a cremation and the scattering of his ashes in what is called a communal garden, but because they had been unable to pay the full amount he was denied even that. A friend of their's reported to me afterwards that he had been afforded only the mini- mal degree of cremation required by the state to render the remains a non health hazzard, and was then buried with several other such unfortunates. They were not allowed to attend the placement of the remains because it would have been far too disturbing to be viewed. I think he deserved more than we could do for all he'd done... for his country and for us. And so, with what I CAN do... let this little corner of the net stand in his memory.