Four...

The other day,  I was on my way home from work and, as I often do, I had the local country radio station on (judge all you want.) Miranda Lambert's song 'Automatic' came on and every time I hear it, I think about growing up and the values we gained from not having everything just a finger's touch away.

"Hey whatever happened to waiting your turn, doing it all by hand? Cuz when everything is handed to you, its only worth as much as the time put in. It all just seemed so good the way we had it- back before everything became automatic."

Now especially, with the anniversary of my father's death coming around again (hard to believe that 4 years have already passed and yet at the same time only 4 years have passed), that song is even more poignant as I think about the man he was, how hard he worked and how he taught us (my brothers and I) from a very young age to truly earn our keep.

As a little kid, I can remember riding with my dad in his beat up old truck either on the weekends or during the summer when I was on my mother's last nerve to one of his job sites. As a contractor and all-around Mr. Fix-It, he often had multiple jobs going at once and when he needed a little help and wanted to teach us a lesson about working to earn a little money, he'd take me or my brothers along.

By the time I was 10, I was a pro at sorting screws and nails, weeding, picking up old shingles and sweeping up curls of sawdust. By 14, I knew how to strip paint from a window sill, sand down drywall and cut in with a paintbrush with a hand as steady as steel. Sure, there was always the guarantee of stopping at the local donut shop for a mid-morning treat and he never made us work a full day, but looking back, I realize that I gained so much more from those days than $20-30 and a few blisters. Not only did I learn the value of working hard -something that has stuck with me to this very day, but I realize that those were probably some of my favorite memories, and I hope they were his too.

He was a man of polar opposites - church-going and God-fearing, but had the mouth of a sailor. He teared up during certain hymns but loved to listen to Queen and The Offspring on the job site, and I can distinctly remember sitting with him in our living room listening to Zac Brown Band's first cd in its entirety one lazy Sunday afternoon. He had callouses on his hands that were as thick as leather and at 6'4", he could be pretty intimidating, but he a big heart, and an even bigger soft spot, and he'd give you the shirt off his back if you needed it.

He taught me some of the most important lessons in my life and, although I miss him dearly, I am proud to take these lessons with me, apply them to my every-day life, and share them with my children, passing on his legacy to the next generation.