
He and eleven siblings were raised in
rural S.C. You might say the five boys were scrappy. Nobody wanted to take on
Don though.
He was passionate
about fishing, boxing, golf and family and was definitely not adverse to a friendly
wager. He loved to laugh. He had a way of teasing you that would make you feel
special … like he was letting you into this man club he was a charter member
of.
“Bubba, I CAN lend you some money for some new blue jeans if you'd like.
Looks like you could use it.” (big grin here)
There’s like a
jillion cousins. He cut all our hair for years and wouldn’t take a dime. You
couldn’t force it on him. I hid it on his counter one time. Couple of days
later, Dad holds out the cash,
“You ougta know he’s not gonna take it, Bo.”
I went to visit him
toward the end. I’m grateful I beat hospice. I was able to say goodbye.
“I’ve got too many
things wrong, Scotty,” he whispered.
“As long as my
little wife is taken care of, I’d just as soon drift away now.”
“I knew he was in
pain. No way he’s going to complain though.”
We made sure he was
the first to cut our son’s hair too. They’ve always asked about him now and
then. You gotta love Uncle Don. He has
a place on our wall at home. I’m glad.
You see, this whole genetic thing’s kind of a trip. When I
think about the boys coming into their own I have to figure if they end up
being like Uncle Don … I’d be just fine with that. A guy could do a whole lot
worse.
Thanks for that, Scott. He would have approved with that glowing, playful grin of his. He was my favorite uncle. Rest in Peace, sweet Uncle Don.
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