My Dad is quite the man, though he'll never fess up to it. He does super hero things quietly. He is the man that the phrase, "Never give up, never surrender!" Stands up and salutes.
He once went on a 20 mile forced hike when in Marine Corps boot camp. He didn't slow down. He didn't quit marching until he got home. Not just back to the base, but home. Once home, Mom says, "he just fell through the front door in a heap and collapsed. Then he laid there passed out, asleep for several hours, half out and half in the house!" Mom couldn't move him because he still had all his gear on and was too heavy.
There are many more stories like that about him when he was in the Marine Corps. But if you ask him what he did when he was in the Marine Corps, in Viet Nam, he'll just humbly mumble, "I worked on hydraulics on helicopters, that's all I did."
Then in life he coached me in football. I don't mean at the house. No. After work he put on his coaches hat and became a coach so that me and a lot of other boys could play Little League Football, in Jessamine county Kentucky.
Now in my later life, and during my wife Susie's, 4 year illness, he was right there beside us the whole time praying, and bringing us food and money. When I, his stupid idiot of a son got myself addicted to drugs. He was right there with me praying for me, encouraging me.
Literally, and I mean literally, picking me up off the floor of my house and setting me back in a chair. Then fixing every thing I broke, and cleaning up my mess that I made during the time I was so high I didn't know what I was doing.
He even let's me keep driving his pickup truck. Even though one time during my drug induced reality, I was going to drive that truck all the way to Washington D.C. so I could tell President Obama to quit all the stupid stuff he was doing.
I was the the stupid one. The stupid son doing all these idiotic things when I thought I was so right about what I knew to be true. Thinking all the the time the whole world needed to listen to me, when all along what I've should have done was just listen to what dad was quietly telling me.
I can not tell y'all how much I love that man. There's never been anyone more deserving of a medal for quietly doing what needs to be done, then my Dad. I love you dad.