B E H I N D / T H E / B A R

It’s your 75th Birthday today.  Like so many of your birthdays during my adult years, this day is commemorated with a simple phone call and the gift of hearing each others voice.  

There is something so comforting, familiar, and right when I hear you pick up the phone . . . . every time I call . . . . with the same 

“Hey Son!”

Rarely ever does your greeting lack life and energy.  It reflects your squirrel like reflexes.  Never slowing down, never letting grass grow under your feet.  Even this morning you said “Gonna head out and cut some grass today!”  

I love you dad.

You’re a mechanic, a builder, a fixer, a “tinkerer.”  You’ve got every tool known to man, and even a few you’ve invented yourself.  You’re a “go getter,” a servant.  If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a million times in my life time.  “Your dad would give a man the shirt off his back.” They’re right.

I love you dad.

You and I are different in a lot of ways.  Growing up I was a “soffee.”  Wasn’t much interested in cars, or hunting, or building, or fixing.  I held the light.  You did the work.  I’m sure there were times you probably thought I was a scrawny little “momma’s boy.”  (I probably was.  Still am I guess.  Love you too, Mom.)  As a teenager, we clashed a little.  There was the time you tried to teach me to drive stick shift, and I almost killed us both.  We got home and I stormed inside vowing to never drive again with you in the car.   Then a year or so later, I was driving your old stick shift bronco out of the woods, taking you to the ER after that stupid tree fell on you and broke your ankle.    I didn’t mean it when I said I’d never drive again with you in the car.  What I’d give to just go riding with you in the car with me today.  For every other word that I may have ever said to you in the heat of the moment – words that may hurt you, disrespected you – I didn’t mean those words either.

I love you dad.

We may be different, but we’re a lot alike too, though.  I love a good joke.  Nothing like good clean fun.  Scaring the girls.  Poking Jay in the ribs.  Squirting water on somebody.  I love a laugh as much as you do.  Jay’s following in our footsteps.  He’s a prankster, like his dad, his paw paw, his great paw paw too.  I’d like to think that I serve others like you do.  At least I want to.  I don’t always.  Sometimes I get too self focused.  But serving others is a “Greer thing”  and I pray I can keep that family trait alive.   I love some good old “gospel” music.  I even find myself craving a little blue grass from every now and then.  I know that’s surprising – especially after that whole riding through Pigeon Forge incident.  The one with Kimberly and I in the back seat, you & mom riding up front with your matching t-shirts, you had the top off your jeep, testing out your new stereo speakers blasting some blue grass.  The folks in Pigeon Forge loved it, as a teen age boy wanting to be “cool.” It wasn’t all that exciting for me.  But it’s a memory I’ll keep close to my heart. Speaking of Jeeps – Yours was the first one I loved.  I think I’m a Jeepster for life because of you.

I love you dad.  

I hope this day is a great day for you.  Thanks for being uniquely you.  One day when I grow up . . . . I hope folks will say – “I know whose boy you are.” 

Happy Birthday.

I love you dad.