Note: This was written on Father's Day, 1995 and posted on Father's Day 2026.
Father’s Day. Some people take it for granted. This past Sunday was the first one I would spend without my dad.
He would have been almost 60 this year, always full of spirit and joy. Rarely did you see him with anything but a smile on his face. He kept that smile even during his final days with the family.
In early October of last year, he was admitted into Bethania Hospital in Wichita Falls. Although he knew the cancer had spread again, he wasn’t aware of the depth of the problem. He didn’t have to worry long. Thirteen days after being admitted into the hospital he passed away, a combination of cancer and chemotherapy. Although he had put up a galant effort for the past two years, he was just too weak to fight anymore.
"Slim" as he was called around town, was well known. I can’t remember many people that called him James. He wasn’t a businessman or a banker. He was just a simple person with a simple lifestyle. His education, limited to five years in the Jean school of Young County, Texas, was adequate enough for his generation. He went to Korea and sailed around the world during his military tour, but he returned to Graham, Texas to live out his life. His roots were deep in Young County and he wanted to bring up his three sons in an atmosphere instrumental to good health and down to earth morals.
During his final years with the City of Graham, he was responsible for making sure the city streets were kept clean. He would go to work every morning at 2 a.m., assuring the citizens of Graham the downtown square would be spotless before each business opened later that morning. During the times when the street sweeper was broken he did the job with a broom and barrel. All the time he was happy and content.
Although much of the time he was seen wearing a cap, his receding hairline and a just-visible bald spot became more noticeable during his later years. His face weathered by the many years of outdoor working conditions, was leathery but smooth. The gray stubble always seemed to show through when he didn’t shave for a couple of days.
For a man who had almost nothing, and kept a simple life, he was one of the hardest to buy for during gift-giving seasons. Giving him a tie or golf clubs for Father’s Day would be like putting a screen door on a submarine, not a useful addition. The same goes for electronic devices. Instead of using a digital alarm clock, he kept the same old-fashioned, analog-style clock radio by his bed for over 15 years. Believe me, waking up to a screaming AM radio is not my idea of a good start to a morning.
Christmas, Father’s Day and his birthday would find me scouring the hardware or sporting goods departments of the local stores looking for that perfect gift. Usually he would end up with some tools or a piece of sports memorabilia from his favorite teams, either the Dallas Cowboys or the Texas Rangers.
Despite his condition, his love for the Cowboys never wavered. One of our last phone conversations was from the hospital during a Cowboy game. The opponent escapes me but the conversation still rings around in my head. Lying there, suffering from the pain of the cancer, he still commented on the Cowboys chances of winning three straight Super Bowls. He believed they would pull it out. Somehow, I wished they could have.
As I pass the rows of cards and piles of items geared toward dad’s across this land this year, I can’t help wishing I was still having trouble picking out a gift.
