In the very small town of Dayton, TN. My fondest memories of my grandfather were as a kid sitting on the front porch talking, while he whittled away at a piece of wood. From the house you could hear my grandmother call his name, “JOHN!!” Daddy John, Grandma’s calling you. Without missing a stroke with his pocket knife he would calmly say “yeah, let’s take a walk,” and he’d keep talking to me, completely ignoring the call. Each summer he would take his grandkids to the lake to teach them how to swim. This picture was him on the left in his better overalls, which he would wear to the lake across the road. He wore his best because after he tossed you in the lake he wasn’t planning to come get you so it would be a good idea to start stroking. He never lost a grandchild and we all love the water. My grandfather died of prostate cancer and others in my family are survivors. He was such a peaceful man that you just loved to be with.
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