Happy Birthday, Grandpa

I find myself thinking of my Pappaw Fulton this afternoon. If my memory and math are correct, he would have celebrated his 92nd birthday today. Pappaw Fulton was my mother's daddy. He stood about 6 foot tall and I can hardly remember him in anything other than his Dickie's work clothes...either the khaki's or a pair of overalls. They were his clothes of choice, except on Sunday's and special occasions when you would find him dressed in a suit. He was a welder by profession, a member of the Boilermakers Union and worked in large plants 'up north' until his retirement. He even spent some time in Texas building ships during WWII. After retiring, he and Mamaw moved back to our hometown and he operated his own welding shop for several years. About all I can remember is hanging out in the office area while Mamaw worked on 'keeping the books'...and the smell, I definitely remember the smell of burning metal. Occasionally Jim will have to do a little welding in the garage, the sight of the dancing sparks and the smell transport me back to childhood.

Pappaw, like so many in his generation, led a difficult life. Growing up on a farm as the oldest child, there wasn't much fun and games. (If I remember correctly my Great Grandpa Fulton was a sharecropper.) Talk about a work ethic though, the man hardly ever sat still. Even in his 70's he was up every morning doing something on the 40 acres that he and Mamaw lived on. There was always something to plant, something to pick, something to feed, something to mow or something to mend. He would work until lunch time, come in to eat, take a short nap and head out again until supper.

Pappaw was also very big on education. He only made it through the 8th grade, having to leave school to work full time on the farm to help out the family. Despite the lack of formal education, he was one of the wisest people I ever knew. Some of my most cherished memories of him are of the times he spent just after supper and the 6 o'clock news sitting in his recliner with his Bible open and a notepad at his side. In his later years he served as Sunday School Superintendent, giving the morning devotional before splitting into individual classes. Sometimes, when I am sitting with my reference books open all around me and scribbling away at my notes, I think of him and wish that he could have lived to see me following in his footsteps.

He has been gone for over 20 years and yet, on days like today...I still miss him like it was just yesterday that he suffered his fatal heart attack. I know he is in a much better place today, spending time with his Savior...with the Word made flesh. But I am still thinking of him and in my heart, wishing him a happy birthday.