Posts Tagged father

All We Have To Do Is…

Have you ever seen a little girl sitting in her father’s lap while he read to her, told her a story, or simply talked to her; the child gazing up at her father, watching his lips move, seeing his eyes sparkling with love for her, his countenance beaming at the marvel of her; on the child’s face, an expression of wonder and delight? Read the rest of this entry »

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Buzz Cut

Hair cuttin’ ain’t changed much in the last fifty years. They still cover you with that sheet thingy to keep the hair off you, the chairs are pretty much the same, and they still use those darn clippers. I don’t like hair clippers, mainly because the noise they make when you turn them on makes me nervous. They make a loud clacking noise then settled into that electric hum like only a set of hair clippers can do. I think it’s the initial “clack” that gets to me. It’s a sound—the loud clack—that tends to summon up some real bad memories. The sound has a tendency to get my eyes wide and my old ticker to thumpin’. Read the rest of this entry »

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Buzz Cut

Hair cuttin’ ain’t changed much in the last fifty years. They still cover you with that sheet thingy to keep the hair off you, the chairs are pretty much the same, and they still use those darn clippers. I don’t like hair clippers, mainly because the noise they make when you turn them on makes me nervous. They make a loud clacking noise then settled into that electric hum like only a set of hair clippers can do. I think it’s the initial “clack” that gets to me. It’s a sound—the loud clack—that tends to summon up some real bad memories. The sound has a tendency to get my eyes wide and my old ticker to thumpin’. Read the rest of this entry »

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I Didn’t Know The Man

Today, I’m going to tell you all I know about my father, Jack “Junior” Marchman. It won’t take long. I don’t remember him at all, and have only seen a few photographs of him. Checking cemetery records in Sayre Oklahoma, I found he was born on September 29, 1929. Read the rest of this entry »

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Hello! My name is Charlie

As a belated Memorial Day tribute, I’d like to tell you a story about Sherry’s father, James King. He passed away last year, and he is truly missed. He was a veteran, and very proud of that fact; he was also one of the most loving fathers and grandfathers I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. From what I saw, his entire life was centered on his family. I respected and admired him very much. Read the rest of this entry »

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