Saturday, August 18, 2012
He was always his own man.
He never called me by my name, always greeted me with "Hello, daughter-in-law!" and a great big bear hug.
He was a coach and a school teacher while he was raising his family. He retired from that in the late seventies and has commercial fished and crabbed since then. I never did quite get over being intimidated with him.
The family story goes that his IQ was tested in his early years at college (maybe when he returned for his Master's, I'm not sure) and his IQ was off the chart. You would never know this by looking at him. You could tell by talking to him that he did have a higher level intelligence. He always had a stack of books around to read. I have heard a few of his philosophical discussions with other family members but I don't remember them well.
He helped a lot of people in the community.
There are things I would have liked to have talked with him about and I didn't.
I occasionally thought I wanted to go out on the boat with him and get pictures but I never did ask. Back when I was in school, something was said about my photography class and he launched into this big discussion of a photography class he'd taken in college, talking about light and the technicalities of capturing it.
His ashes are sitting on my husband's desk in our bedroom.
He was a full-blooded Cajun but I won't blame all of his stubborn tenaciousness on the Cajun people.
He was one of a kind.