My Daddy
Just a good ol' boy from North Carolina
As country as could be
Packed his bags, jumped in his car
And headed to Tennessee.

Fresh out of school, he went to work
At the local KFC
Frying chicken, working hard
The way that it should be.

One day he asked a sweet little lady
Who worked there just for fun,
Do you know any nice girls?
She said, "No, not one.

But one day that little lady's daughter
Decided to stop by,
And that lovely blond daughter
Caught that Carolina boy's eye.

The lovely daughter had two little girls
And a cozy little home,
But due to circumstances
The lady was alone.

So the Carolina boy
Asked the lady for a date
I guess the rest is history
Or you could call it fate.

The two of them got married
And began a brand new life
The Carolina boy now had two daughters
And a lovely new wife.

Things weren't always perfect
As every family knows
You have your share of ups and downs
You have your grief and woes.

Through it all, looking back
I can say with a happy smile
The memories we made along the way
Were worth every mile.

Of all the gifts life has given me
And all the treasures I have had
One of the greatest is the Carolina boy,
That I proudly call my Dad.

All my love,
Traci (your big girl)

~ Traci Walker ~

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Daddy
When I was seven years old and my younger sister was only four, our father was tragically killed in an automobile accident just two weeks after his twenty-seventh birthday.

Mom was devastated and although we were really too young to understand what was going on, somehow I knew life would never be quite the same.

After about a year, my mom's friends thought she should start dating and hopefully meet someone to fill the void in her life. Although mom was young and beautiful and certainly desirable, she was more interested in her girls and making sure our life was as comfortable as possible.

We had a nice home, plenty of what we needed and all the love you could ask for, but we sure missed our father. Mom was lonely too, so just about every evening we would go to our grandparent's house for a visit.

My grandmother, Nanny as we called her, had begun working part time at Kentucky Fried Chicken. Her boss was a nice young man named Charles who had recently moved to Tennessee from North Carolina where he was fresh out of college. His older brother had purchased two Kentucky Fried Chicken franchises and Charles was managing one of them.

One day he asked Nanny if she knew any nice girls, to which she replied, "No, not a one!" We still laugh about her statement to this day!

Mom, my sister and I decided to eat dinner at Kentucky Fried Chicken one evening and when Charles met my mom, he was interested in getting to know her better. To make a long story short, the two of them dated for a few months and decided to get married. My sister and I were so excited that we were getting a daddy. They had a quiet ceremony and we all went to the Smoky Mountains on a honeymoon.

That was just the beginning of 32 very wonderful years for us. We were never called or considered "step" children, but we were his girls from day one. My mother was a queen and we were princesses.

Daddy soon left Kentucky Fried Chicken and became a banker, which he did for 28 years before retiring in November 2003.

He was a very loved and respected member of our community, a deacon at our church and a man that we were so proud to call our Daddy. He was passionate about his relationship with God, his love for his family and was an avid golfer.

On October 29, 2004, we received news that would forever change our lives. Daddy had cancer. He had been living with Parkinson's for over ten years and dealt with it head on just like everything else. He seldom complained and was determined to squeeze as much out of life as possible.

The treatments did not work and as a result we knew our time was running out. I have never experienced such overwhelming agony as I did seeing my Daddy suffer and wilt away. I have also never seen such courage demonstrated as I did as he bravely faced his destiny with as much humor and determination as he could muster.

I will never forget the day I was spending the morning with him and he had gotten violently ill. Mom and I were sitting outside the bathroom in case he needed assistance. All of the sudden he began singing, "Just A Closer Walk With Thee." That was such an inspiration to me that even though he was facing death, he still had a song in his heart.

Daddy went home to heaven seven weeks to the day that he was diagnosed, so on December 17, 2004, I said goodbye to a man that was more than a father -- he was my daddy, not by blood, but by love and God's plan.

I wrote the poem one week before he passed away and he loved it!
~ Traci Walker ~

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Redemption from the Mud

I was prepared for the worst. I had water, gloves and tools to scrape
the mud, garbage bags in which to put the broken picture frames, tables
to set out the photos. But I wasn't prepared for what I saw when I
opened the first bag.

I had volunteered for cleanup efforts from the flood in Centralia,
Washington, in December 2007. A gal named Kathryn had sent a volunteer
to my home with photos: four bags and two boxes.

The bags were mostly full of pictures in frames, old 70's high school
pictures, a black and white or two, and lots of snapshots. I was amazed
to see that under an inch of mud, they weren't destroyed.

Water really isn't an enemy to pictures, they are developed in liquids,
and as long as they don't dry out in this condition, they can be cleaned
and made right again. I started on the first pile. I had glimpsed a
black and white in the bag and thought I ought to start on the oldest
ones first.

I had to break the frames in order to get the swollen cardboard backings
off. As I peeled, rinsed, and scraped the mud I got down to the glass
and the picture. As I slid my putty knife along the edge of the glass,
there appeared an old gentleman in a gray flannel hat, with a
distinguished-looking mustache. The photo was in nearly perfect
condition.

Encouraged, I plunged onward, releasing brides and grooms, babies with
moms, and school aged children from their muddy prisons.

What I was not prepared for as my tables filled up with faces was the
surge of raw emotion I felt as I looked on decades of photos nearly
destroyed by the raging waters of winter rains. It broke my heart that
though these pictures were now relatively safe, many others were lost to
their mud-covered sepulchers.

A lesson came to me clearly: if your pictures of your family are
precious to you, treat them like family. Don't store them on the ground
floor if you live close to water of any kind. Make duplicates and store
them off-site, in a safe deposit box, or a relative's home.

And don't print your pictures at home! I know we all do it, but don't
let that be the only copy! Pictures printed by professional developers
can be rinsed and cleaned without fear of ruining the photo. Photos
printed at home wouldn't be all right after sitting in mud for days --
in fact, they wouldn't be there at all.

The first night I rinsed and rinsed for about five hours. My counters
and four tables were full of faces I knew nothing about. Families I
don't know, children who are grown up with their own children, water
skiers, cruises, boat rides, Mustangs, Harleys, babies, grandparents,
toddlers and toys.

But mostly... my tables were full of hope for rebuilding.

by Mary Malone Editor: Joyce Schowalter
Washington, USA

Woah...

That was so beautiful!!!! You have a wonderful daddy watching over you from heaven.......

my dad is not dead...