My Grandparents---Herman & Marie McMorris have been gone a long time. Grandpa died in 1987 and Grandma in 1994. They are the anchors for all I know in my heart that is right, good, solid and worthwhile. Grandpa had a firm handshake and a low booming voice. He had no tolerance for bullies or anyone who was mean for the sake of being mean or selfish. Always a voice for the underdog and a champion for children, animals and stories, he would have been 110 this week. Strange, how I never thought of him as old. He was always there...an hour or so away in Green Forest, Arkansas, waiting for the next visit, the next walk, the next sunset, the next story and the next amble down a dry creek bed to look for rocks. His mom died when he was a young boy, he made it through the Great Depression and World War II. He worked hard. He never gave up. He remains a legend, still, today. He wore numerous hats to make ends meet: barber, horse trainer, farmer, insurance agent, security officer, town marshal and local politician. He stood up for what was right. He spoke out when things were wrong. He loved his God, his family, his friends and his animals without question. If I close my eyes, I can still hear that big, bass voice sing The Old Rugged Cross one Sunday morning when I sat barefoot on the front porch. When things get the slightest bit rough, I always manage to conjure him up...knowing I come from good stock.
Posted on: Tue, 01 Apr 2014 11:19:53 +0000
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