Today would have been my father's 122nd birthday. He was born on May 20, 1886, in Elk County, KS, first child and only son of his parents. He died at the age of 78, on January 8, 1965, when I was 31 years old.
I don't have many records of my father's early life. My mother was his second wife and early-years records may have remained with his first family. The first photo of my father that I have was taken when he was 18. Among the documents in my possession is his 8th grade report card of 1904; he was an exemplary student. The eighth grade was as far as the local educational system went, I suppose, but presented no barrier to his becoming a teacher. At some later date, he was the principal of the High School in another Kansas town. Our memory box contains several very formal studio portraits of the senior class students at that school, given to my father as mementos, I suppose. We have no idea who they are, but the portraits are lovely.
I believe that my father was raised in the Methodist denomination but at some point became a Baptist and a preacher. He later attended Texas Christian University and received a degree in Theology. He was by that time single, and was holding a good old fashioned "revival" at a small-town Texas Baptist church where my mother happened to be the pianist. The rest is history, as they say.
I have many tales to tell about my father, but this is enough for now.
I've been thinking about you today, Babba.