My Daddy.

My Daddy.

Hot Springs, Arkansas, 1949

This is my father (I do not know the woman). He died in a car wreck two months before my mother shot herself.  He would’ve been about 31 years old in this photo.  I would’ve been just over two years old so I don’t remember him at all, or my mom.

It was one of those sudden tragic things that driving while drinking, on rain-slicked roads, does when one runs off the road and takes on a telephone pole head-on.

He was in the back seat, and flew over the front seat, taking the gear shift in the stomach as he went out through the windshield. None of the other four passengers were injured. He died two days later of gangrene.  He was 45 years old when he died.

Everyone called him Little George and he was very much loved. He was a cowboy, working on a ranch in Avon Park, Florida, driving cattle.


2 thoughts on “My Daddy.

    • It’s so strange to me that now I am Grandma whereas when I was a small child, my Granny was the center of our family. Everything began and ended with her. I wonder if 50 years from now, my grandsons will think the same thing about me.

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