Larry Tucker, Editor

He was the first man I ever remember meeting.

He wrapped me in a yellow blanket when I was two-years-old and took me to Baylor hospital to have my tonsils removed. 

He was my first baseball and basketball coach. He taught me to respect my coaches and not complain, just work hard and play the game. If you are on the bench, watch and learn.

He took me to church from birth until I could drive a car on my own (and I still went to church with him). 

He took me to be the water boy at his semi-pro basketball games while playing for a traveling Ford Motor Company basketball team in the 1950s.

He quit playing when I started playing. He never missed a game when I played for school teams. 

He taught me to shoot a left-handed lay-up. 

He worked extra hours and part-time to make it easier for our family to survive. 

He took me to SMU football and basketball games in the 1950s and early 1960s.  He took me to watch the Dallas Cowboys and Dallas Texans when he worked as a security guard at the Cotton Bowl and got me a job selling programs.

He was quiet, but his actions spoke volumes. 

He supported me regardless of my misfortune and immature mistakes in my childhood and as an adult.

He prayed for me constantly. 

He was there through my years of addiction, never scolding or accusing, just loving and praying for me.

He (and my Mom) raised my kids to be great adults and incredible parents because their mother was not there and I was rarely responsible.

He never criticized or yelled at me; he just was there to pick up the pieces when I fell apart. He honestly let me know how he felt, but he never gave up on me.

He was a proud World War II veteran.

He was a faithful Ford Motor Company employee for 33 years.

He taught me to care for others no matter who they were, regardless of race or religion, during a time of social unrest (the 1960s).

He loved my mother dearly and me and my siblings deeply. 

He made sure I heard from one of my heroes via a telegram, Detroit Tiger outfielder Al Kaline, when I was laying in a bed at Baylor Hospital unable to move after my first spinal fusion in 1967.

He taught me to be honest and speak my beliefs, even if I was in the minority. 

He came back to his hometown after retirement from 33 years at Ford Motor Company in Dallas to become involved in the hometown he loved, Quitman.

He loved his grandkids as only a Pawpaw can.

He loved the Lord and being active in church.

His last words ever said were to my Mom,“I love you Peanut” as he passed away in 2004 at Wood County Central Hospital.

He was my hero. 

He was my best friend. 

He was my Dad.

Happy Father’s Day Clent Jackson Tucker and all of you Dads out there.