GopherM
Darwin was right
My dear old departed Dad loved pecans. His Mom and one of his sisters had a couple of huge pecan trees in their yard in Florida and Dad would gather pecans in sacks and bring them home.
In his later years, he planted a pecan tree in his own yard and lived long enough for it to produce nuts. He would wander his back yard with his sack and collect his pecans.
He was so into the pecans that he built his own tabletop nutcracker and spent hours each week when the nuts were falling, cracking and picking the nuts from their shells and packaging them for his my brother and I and his grandkids. This was something we always looked forward to receiving. We lived quite a distance away so unless we were travelling from Maryland to Florida, he would regularly mail us sacks or boxes of his precious nuts.
Each of us descendants fondly remembers Dad with his sack collecting nuts around the yard and the precious gifts they became to each of us. One of his granddaughters is a teacher and creative writer and during her eulogy, at Dad’s funeral, she paid tribute to Dad and his nuts and mentioned that she was the recipient of his beloved homemade nutcracker.
I just can’t figure out why when I tell people about my Dad’s nuts and his nut sack they will stare at me like I just loudly passed gas right in the middle of the preacher’s sermon. Al I know is that Dad is wandering the grounds of Heaven picking up his nuts, putting them in his nut sack, and the cracking and cleaning his nuts.
We miss you Dad.
In his later years, he planted a pecan tree in his own yard and lived long enough for it to produce nuts. He would wander his back yard with his sack and collect his pecans.
He was so into the pecans that he built his own tabletop nutcracker and spent hours each week when the nuts were falling, cracking and picking the nuts from their shells and packaging them for his my brother and I and his grandkids. This was something we always looked forward to receiving. We lived quite a distance away so unless we were travelling from Maryland to Florida, he would regularly mail us sacks or boxes of his precious nuts.
Each of us descendants fondly remembers Dad with his sack collecting nuts around the yard and the precious gifts they became to each of us. One of his granddaughters is a teacher and creative writer and during her eulogy, at Dad’s funeral, she paid tribute to Dad and his nuts and mentioned that she was the recipient of his beloved homemade nutcracker.
I just can’t figure out why when I tell people about my Dad’s nuts and his nut sack they will stare at me like I just loudly passed gas right in the middle of the preacher’s sermon. Al I know is that Dad is wandering the grounds of Heaven picking up his nuts, putting them in his nut sack, and the cracking and cleaning his nuts.
We miss you Dad.
