My Dad

Today marks the 8th year since Daddy died. I miss him so much.

Thankfully, I can now think about him without bawling my eyes out. But this date makes me sad. He was a very happy person, one who believed all mankind had a good nature inside them. Sometimes you had to look hard for it. He was the only one I knew who believed a telemarketer was really looking out for his best interests.

He told tall Texan tales in a slow and drawn out way. For someone who was anxious to get to the end, it could drive me crazy waiting. We spent many hours listening to his tales. I know my niece and nephew were held hostage many times, as well. Those were good times.

My folks moved to California in '56. My oldest sister had respiratory problems and the doctor suggested they move away from the constant wind of the Texas panhandle. My dad left on a job hunting trip and went to Seattle to see about a job at Boeing. He got one that would start in a couple of weeks, so he took the bus to San Francisco on a whim. Being who he was, he would add business to pleasure and applied for a job at Travis AFB while being a tourist. He got a job there. What to do? He decided to keep the job at the AFB and declined the job in Seattle. He got a house nearby and sent for my mom and my sisters. The all met at the park surrounding the park at the state capital in Sacramento.

That's how a Texan named Bobby Stucker came to California, raised a family and died in the Central Valley. All those years and when he died he still carried the Texan drawl he left Texas with nearly 50 years before.