A few days after my father's funeral, I stopped in to see Mimi Miller at The Historic Natchez Foundation. She told me she'd been too shy to get up in front of a crowd and tell one of her stories about my dad at the service, but if she had, one of the stories she'd have told was of the first time she met him.
"I was intrigued by him," she said.
My father had this -- je ne sais quoi -- charisma. He was handsome and self-assured.
It was at a party my parents were giving with another couple. Somehow the conversation turned to the question: What is your favorite thing to do?
Most people had the usual replies: traveling to Europe, watching football games, going to the lake with friends, dining out.
When it came my father's turn to reply, he didn't miss a beat: "Carpool."
"Carpool?"
People looked confused.
"Yes," he said. "Every morning I get to drive my children to school. I have them all to myself. Sometimes I pick them up in the afternoon and drive them home. It's my favorite thing to do, the best part of my day."
He didn't say anything about going out on the river, hunting....anything. His children were his favorite thing. The man who had every woman's eye on him wanted nothing more than to be with his children.
What a guy.
I only hope I lived up to what a child should be to her parent. He did his part, in spades.
Beautiful story. Beautiful memory.
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