Dad was living with us in Lewisville during his final treatment phase.We got to enjoy a lot of quality family time, and that included one gathered evening when we read through many of these online memories that the kids and grandkids had written.We all laughed, maybe cried a little, as it seemed almost like a premature farewell at the time.I couldn’t write my favorite Dad things at that point, didn’t want to waste any moments on the computer.Wasting moments watching Gunsmoke—well, that was acceptable. Or playing three-handed bridge with LeeAnn, or spades with Laura, or playing dominoes with my next-door neighbor, yeah that was all ok.We had a little routine those days; I’d get up at 6 and make him some scrambled eggs, bacon and coffee, and he’d wander out at 6:30 to get breakfast.Often I think he’d been up at 4:00 and taken his blood sugar, but we were keeping it under control those days.

I’ve left this writing until the last minute, perhaps unconsciously thinking I can’t condense my relationship with Dad to words on paper, or wondering if I have the intestinal fortitude to commit these things as a sort of eulogy.But everybody else managed to do it, so I’ll soldier on into this.

Dad was a natural born story teller.Some things true, some things fiction, some things true but stranger than fiction.He grew up poor in Louisiana, I suppose in good company, and definitely in a good family.I heard some stories repeated in those last days together, some new.They lived in a house next to Dad’s maternal grandfather, “Daddy” Lake Alexander. Dad recalls the cracks were so big between the boards and the wind blew through the house and it was often bitter cold, except in his oldest brother Robert Edwin’s room.Robert Edwin had somehow fixed up the porch or some area and padded it with newspapers to fill up the cracks, and the littler boys were quite envious. Next door, Daddy Lake was married to Thelma, his second wife, as Dad’s maternal grandmother Ora Lou had died ten years before Dad was born.Thelma would make Daddy Lake a skillet full of biscuits for lunch, slathered in cane sugar from Daddy Lake’s cane mill.(Daddy Lake closed the mill after a sugar cane blight swept through Louisiana in 1941.) As Daddy Lake would launch into his daily ham and biscuits, Dad remembers sitting at the table watching him eat, since Dad wasn’t allowed to eat at Daddy Lake’s house.Dad was always hungry.He swears that one summer pretty much all they had to eat was tomatoes, such that Dad’s skin turned blue.I defer to the medical folks in my family to define this phenomenon, as I have a hard time picturing it, but he maintained this one for the truth.He also said the story was true about the cowboys and Indians game; one of his uncles (Buddy maybe?I get all the uncle names confused in their various stories) was supposed to be babysitting Dad but he’d had an invitation to go to the picture show with friends.So Buddy, or whichever uncle I have failed to properly malign, tied Dad to a tree and told him they were playing cowboys and Indians, and proceeded to depart to the picture show.I suppose Grandmama Davis took care of which ever offending uncle it was when she saw them next.Dad remembered that during WWII, Barksdale Air Force Base training planes would fly over and practice dropping “bombs”, which were sacks of flour.It was a red letter day if they bombed your house, and you would run pick up the flour so his mama could figure out something to bake out of it. I doubt she was making her signature chocolate cake back then, as chocolate was likely a luxury seldom seen at their house. As a boy he was always working, having a paper route on his bicycle as one of his jobs.In his later years, Dad often mused about where the Alexander land came from, because he would remember riding his bike down a long, long fence line along what was known as the Gill property, and his grandmother was Rebecca Caroline Blackmon Gill Alexander who had married James Monroe Alexander.He speculated maybe family land came from his Gill line, but we couldn’t find any record of that.Since the Louisiana purchase was right around the time Lousiana because a state, we could only find a few deeds of 50 or so acres to William Asiel Alexander and his wife Mary Polly Hendon and their son.I’ll keep looking for those deeds, Dad.Dad also worked with an old man who was freed from slavery as a child, at age 5, whose name was Jack; Jack was enslaved atthe Minor Plantation, but worked with Daddy on a cattle farm in Caddo parish.Dad had another job working for another of those many uncles,( Uncle Jeff?Uncle Norman? ) at the Alexander store.The store, in case you never heard, straddles the state line between Texas and Louisiana.Different products were taxed at different rates, so alcohol would be on the Texas side and cigarettes on the Louisiana side.You get the idea. He and I found pictures of the store, now labeled the LickSkillet store, on the internet and he pointed out the steps where he used to sit and have a soda after he was finished sweeping. When Joy and I went to the 2019 Alexander Family Reunion, we stopped and took a few pictures of the store, which is still standing at the crossroads and is not too far from where my grandparents, Robert Avery Davis and Anna Elizabeth Alexander Davis, lived in their little white house with the stinky nandinas and the big hydrangeas which my Uncle Henry Davis, dad’s second-eldest brother, loves so much.Joy and I went with cousin Suzanne Davis Baker and her husband Don to the Providence Cemetery, where so many of our family are laid to rest, including James Monroe and Caroline Alexander, and William Asiel and Polly Alexander, and even Caroline’s mother, Margaret Dubose Hudson Gill.

I didn’t ever hear much about the interim years, school-aged years, unless you count his pitiful story about Sam Bostwick, the homesick boy at camp who was the victim of a prank where the other boys all told him, “Your mom’s here to get you, Sam!”Dad would laugh as he described Sam snatching up his suitcase and running out the door looking for his nonexistent mother; as a person who suffered from homesickness, I figure that was one of the things Daddy might have had to answer for when he saw St. Peter.Dad did talk about college sometimes.He didn’t go to college right after high school, but he realized all his friends had left town and things were kind of boring, so he decided maybe he would go, too.At LSU, Daddy used to take orders and run a little short-order kitchen in the Ag Barn.He would wrap up some small cut of thin steak, a potato, and an onion with a little salt and pepper and throw it in the oven; if his friends had placed orders earlier in the day, they were entitled to buy his little gourmet dish for dinner.I think he said they were $1.25.He told that story so often, that my daughter Sarah and her husband Tomas had Dad make the meal for them once.(Of course, that foil-wrapped meal wouldn’t have been as yummy as his famous fried okra, but that would come later.)Dad used to go evenings to stay with his , and great-aunt and keep her company; she cooked for him in return.At LSU, Dad and Mom met on a double date, but they weren’t each other’s dates.Daddy described the guy Mom was with as shorter than Mom, and not very good-lookin’, but Mom doesn’t recall it that way at all.Dad says he told the fellow, “I wish you wouldn’t go out with Cecilia anymore, because I’ve kind of flagged her for myself.”I always liked looking at Mom and Dad’s LSU Gumbo yearbooks, to see the pictures of Dad in his cowboy hat.He never wore a cowboy hat that I recall.Since Mom was the yearbook editor, I’m pleased she got that picture of Dad in the cowboy hat published.And I always loved turning the pages of their wedding photos, those classic black and whites of a young handsome couple just taking their first steps into the future.

Dad loved horses, but maybe not always.Certainly from the time I was in about 8th grade, when I used to ride every day with my friend Marlene out in the back pasture.I don’t recall how he ended up with the two Tennessee Walkers, but one of them was a gentle horse to ride; Dad taught me how to get the horse to take the bit and how to cinch up the saddle tight then pop the horse under the belly to get him to exhale and tighten it again.Like a girdle, I suppose. I can’t believe that I don’t recall the Tennessee Walkers’ names.Maybe Joy does; wasn’t she riding one of them when she thought Mrs. Poteet was going to run her down on FM 1398 and she jumped off the horse, face planted, and looked like Planet of the Apes for several days?Horses became another of Dad’s big dreams, the dream of running a winner at Louisiana Downs.He loved to compare horse antics with Sandy Milstead, a joy they shared.I’m sure he gave her some sage equine advice.You had to watch Dad’s advice, sometimes it was real and sometimes he was just trying to see if he could fool you with something.(See LeeAnn’s story of the hot barbed-wire fence.Or bob-wire, as we call it.)He did have some beauties over the years and some of them performed well, but mostly they just left him with that bum shoulder from falling off the saddle at some point in time.Anne Marie and LeeAnn were always working on that shoulder, trying to get the knots out, but it gave him pain lying in the hospital bed there at the end.Maybe that shoulder pain reminded him of some great horses he had loved.

He also loved his dairy cows, although they were a 24x7 job. He passed that love on to me.He’d get us up early, after he’d been in the barn since 3 am, and walk with us out to feed those baby calves with powdered milk in a giant bottle.I CAN remember the names of some of my babies which I raised in 4-H, including Aquarius and Big Blue.Dad and Mom both spent a lot of time with us in 4-H, raising animals, teaching cooking, learning to sew, and one year they taught us and the Gouldsbys how to square dance. He encouraged us to try to save by giving us jobs when we were pretty little, like picking thistles in the pasture for a nickel apiece.We were little but smart; we quickly realized that was a thankless task, no end in sight to the thistles, and so he raised it to a dime.We had a job in the summer of washing down the cement lot after the cows were finished milking, and we’d stand in bare feet and squish the manure between our toes as we pushed a big scraper hoe to gather up the manure, and then turned over a huge welded barrel of water to wash it all down to that catch pond we called Lake Manura.I don’t think any fish called Lake Manura home.Although he tried to talk them out of the venture, he was proud of Eve and Anne Marie’s early dairy farm, and at 80 was still helping milk the cows.

Dad was a fine gardener, and we all know that’s a lot of work.He grew bushels of tomatoes, even though he didn’t care to eat them after the blue skin incident.He was always tinkering with a hydroponic tomato, or a better time to fertilize, or looking at his moon calendar for the best day to transplant.Some years he started seeds on his heat mat, some years he just bought them at Walmart when all the early transplants had failed.Gardening can be a very unforgiving undertaking, but he seemed to always have peas, green beans, okra, squash, turnips, sweet potatoes.I recall him mourning when the older grandkids were college age that , “when the end times came,” none of the grandkids would be able to feed themselves.How gratified he was when Sarah and Tomas came to live at the farm for a year to learn from him, when the Sullivan kids came back home to dairy and farm, when Alexander put out some plants in May and Uncle’s old garden, and even when Christi got her city chickens.Chris had intended to get in on the lesson, but he was too late to the party.I still find myself missing his gardening advice, “Dad, the book says I can’t put sweet potatoes out after June, but have you ever had any luck with that?” I’ll certainly never be as good a gardener as he was. I have one luxury he didn’t have; Ralph waters my garden by hand every morning.

He taught me to drive.He helped me buy my first car, which I can picture in my mind’s eye.I can’t tell you what make or model or year it was, but it was a fine baby blue with a white top.He was with me when I ran over a turtle, so traumatizing, and when I hit a chicken.He wasn’t with me, but many of my Milstead cousins were, when I hit Chris’s dog.Sorry Chris.OK so maybe Dad didn’t teach me how to drive so well.He did teach me, though, that when you passed somebody on the street in the country, you acknowledge them by raising a finger off the wheel.Maybe two, but never three.

Dad was strong, or as his brother Donnie said recently, “He’s a tough old country boy.”I can remember being frightened that day he came home and laid down on the floor with the first of many kidney stones; he was always so strong that it scared me to see that something could hurt him.He could fix things, but they didn’t always look lovely or fancy after being fixed. When I was maybe 10 or 12, he and Jim bought a minibike and got it running.Jim and I took a tandem ride down the barn rode; I can’t remember who was driving but likely it was Jim since he had pride of ownership.The barn rode hadn’t been graded lately, and the tire ruts had dried pretty hard.We hit one, turned over, and I must have had a concussion.Although I was passed out on the road, young Jim must have picked up the minibike, ridden back home, and apparently had to confess to Dad and Mom, “I killed Saundra.”I guess most of our vehicles were out of commission or not worthy of standing-in as an ambulance, so Dad went over and borrowed Uncle Loral and Aunt Leliah May’s old greyish green ford, bundled me in the back, and Dad was in such a hurry he drove in low gear all the way to the hospital.I was awake-ish but fuzzy headed, and I recall repeating, “Am I gonna die?” over and over and over during the ride. Jim was probably wondering the same thing.

Dad loved family.He loved gathering the chicks to the nest, although the noise drove him a little batty in later years.He was proud of all the kids and grandkids and shared their joys, their failures, their stories.He also loved yanking their chains, playing pranks on them, telling them his little quips just to get their dander up.He was so fond of his Alexander relations, and rejoiced with Charlsie Alexander’s 100th birthday.He loved his only sister,Ora.He knew less about his father’s side, as my granddad Robert Avery Davis had no knowledge of where his own father was. He was quite fond of poker, had a group of poker buddies and domino buddies.He and Ralph often called each other to crow over a big win or commiserate over a bad beat.They also enjoyed discussing Chris’s latest crazy hand that he managed to turn into a winner, or Gina’s uncanny knack for raking in the big bucks.He looked forward to visits from his brother Turk and Betty, who taught Dad and Mom the game Joker which has become a favorite of all the grandkids.He also enjoyed bi-annual visits from Larry and Tani Guy Brown,who’d drop in on their way to Louisiana.Dad loved games of all kinds—bridge, poker, dominos.He and Mom played endless three-handed bridge whenever my maternal aunt Patricia Milstead would come out to the family homestead to visit from California.He would stop anything he was doing to join in a game, and found great joy in outwitting his opponents.He often laughed over the folly of granddaughters Madeleine and Laura’s Spades escapades, such as double blind nello.Any Sunday evening, I could call on the phone and interrupt a Joker game with Mom and Dad versus grandsons Joe and John Paul. Although he and Mom traveled some, in his later years he just preferred to be home where he could keep an eye on things.

Dad and Mom shielded us from worry growing up.We never knew when money was tight, as it must have been often.We never lacked food, nor clothes, nor majorette boots and baseball uniforms.He still harbored some resentment to the bankers who called in the loan to close the dairy, after President Jimmy Carter sent all the grain to Russia to feed the starving, and the grain price doubled in the US, putting strain on a lot of dairy farmers.He let the dairy go and I wish I had kept one of the fliers advertising the auction, but he never let the land go.And he never let the resentment go, as it offended his sense of justice and he was adamant about always doing the right thing.

How do you sum up a life of a man?He taught us to be who we are.He was a good man, a great father, a fine example.Our neighbor, Mr. Larry, told John Paul, “If more people were like your granddad, the world would be a better place. “As LeeAnn and I were having one of our many posthumous text conversations, largely consisting of, “Why did I do this?Why did we let the doctors do that?What if we had chosen that instead?”, I came across the following line in a book I was reading by C.S. Lewis, “It’s all one web.You can’t pick threads out nor put them in.”So, thanks Dad.I will always love you.

After Dad's bladder cancer was diagnosed in January, but before he had his first surgery in February, Joy started an editable webpage where we could chime in on memories. Here are a few of those.

Joy Davis Kirsch--Some of my Favorite “Dad” Things:

-Your storytelling. You told us ridiculous stories about pigs and other animals who did incredulous things and ants who played in the marching band. I always enjoyed your stories about growing up in Bethany and all the trouble you got into with your brothers.

- Your playful side. I remember you swimming with us in the pool on our trip to CA; Playing baseball in the diamond that you made in the yard and playing HORSE on the basketball court.  I also remember riding the homemade trolley and the minibikes. And you made sure we never stayed mad by ribbing us or sticking your finger in our ear.

- Your patience, including every time you stopped on a car trip to let us go to the bathroom.

• -Your encouragement.  I remember the time you pumped me on the handlebars of the bike and then told me to ride it myself.  I said “Let me go get my bike with the training wheels.” You then broke off a switch from a tree and said “You Ride THIS bike.”  And I did.

- Your lessons.  You taught us a work ethic and the value of money by giving us a baby calf and requiring us to do chores, such as cleaning up the manure in the feed lot and pulling the thistles.  You taught me how to take care of my car by making sure I had oil in it every time I went off to college and I was the only girl in my class who could spot a fan belt that needed to be replaced.

- Your entrepreneurial spirit.  You imagined so many things that you could do for a family business – the catfish restaurant with all of us as waitresses, a solar panel company made from rubber tires, horseracing, etc.

- Your practical nature.  When there was a hole in the back yard because we almost had a swimming pool, you just filled it up with all the household trash.  (What in the world did we do with that trash before you dug that pool?) When it filled up, years later, you just dug another hole to start the process all over again.

- Your curiosity and desire to learn.  You tried to go organic in your garden and that lasted all of a season, I think. And of course, you’re still experimenting with making the perfect collagen mix.

- Your reliability and strength.  When Larry’s father wouldn’t let him be buried in the family cemetery because he committed suicide, you and Mom told me to bring him home.  When the priest no-showed the burial, you stood up and read the scriptures and said the prayers.

- Your spiritual awakening around family. You and Mom somehow decided a few years ago that it was ok to tell us that you loved us.  One of my favorite things was hearing you say that for the first time. Another favorite thing was hearing you say it a second time and every time thereafter.

Best Quotes:

• A few months into my career a client asked me about buying cattle futures.  I called you and asked you why I didn’t know anything about farming. Your response: “Daughter, I never wanted you to believe that you could make a living at farming.”
• When an (unimportant and non-memorable) boyfriend broke up with me: “Well, he didn’t deserve you anyway.” My response: “He said I came from a long line of opinionated women.”  Your reply: “Yes, I always liked that.”

• At the reception following Ron and my ceremony “I am so happy that you found someone for your old age.”

• And on numerous (or at least a few) occasions: “You have always brought us great pleasure and made us proud.”

Thank you, Dad.  And I love you.

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Calling for Fun & Favorite Memories--

Alexander Davis (Jim's 2nd): That 4th of July when you tried to slide home and busted up your nose.  Totally forgot anything else you ever did haha. Just kidding, those of us who grew up across the street have countless fond memories from early childhood of the time you spent with us.  We will always remember the Papa Days as well as countless other events that involve you.   

Andrew Davis (Jim's 3rd): That time I beat you in spades, you remember, THAT time... 

Madeline Sullivan Hite (Eve's 3rd): Brer Rabbit reading times!  And how you would always make us whatever we wanted for Papa Day, but it was always chicken nuggets, fries, green beans/peas, and OKRA when we were lucky.  One time I was over there watching Fox News (another of my favorite things to do with y’all), and I brought some wine. When it ran out, I asked you if you had any.  You said, “Ya, but I only have a box… none of that fancy stuff.” And I said, “Grandpa, this bottle was $8,” to which you replied, “That’s what I said, the fancy stuff!” 

Eve Davis Sullivan: 1) Riding in the greenchop trailer down to the bottoms and back, singing songs.  2) When you would take us to the back bedroom when Mom said to give us a spanking and say, now you yell out loud while I hit the mattress with this belt.  3) When we'd stop at that "make-it-yourself" burger shop some Sundays after Mass 4) When you were supportive of our farming endeavor, even when you knew it was thankless and oft times downright doleful. 5) I love the ingenuity with which you fix things and make things out of what you have on hand.  6) Playing Joker after Joker after Joker, winning some, and losing some. 7) When you would come get baby Coe and take her outside and swing and swing and swing. And when you would take the kids for Papa Day, so Jodett and I could run to the grocery store in peace.

JohnPaul Sullivan (Eve's 6th): You're the best looking, snazziest GPa a guy could have.  -JohnPaul

Justin Sullivan (Eve's 1st): I remember soon after we moved to Hooks, you had Pappy all saddled up and you were ribbing me to ride, and I didn't want to ride that horse because he was old and mean. You said, "That old bag of bones can barely walk; he's not gonna buck you off."  So finally I gave in, and no sooner than I got on was I immediately thrown off. And you just laughed and laughed. Maybe not my favorite memory, but definitely one that stands out!  

Lindsey Fischer Sullivan (Justin's wife): My favorite time with Granddad is beating everyone we play in Joker, and then sharing our special handshake across the table after each win! He's my favorite partner! Oh! And also, when Justin and I got engaged and Granddad made up the funniest song about how he thought it would never happen.  "I'm so excited- Justin and Lindsey are getting united..." With his little jig. So funny!! 

Dominic Sullivan (Eve's 9th): I love getting candy and debbies at your house, and playing games and watching tv with you. 

Paul Sullivan (Eve's husband) I really enjoy watching football with you while sipping fine wine (from your favorite box) and savoring fine chocolates (from your Nestle’s Dark Chocolate Chip bag).  Free cable, wine, and chocolate- no complaints here. 

Stella Sullivan (Eve's 8th): I  have all these great memories of you that I will never forget.  I’ve always enjoyed gardening with you, sitting down to watch Dom’s and my favorite channel, getting big hugs, sharing laughs and jokes, and of course talking trash to each other about winning and losing joker games.  You have made a huge impact on my life. I love you, Grandpa. 

Coeli Sullivan (Eve's 5th) One of my earliest memories is when Brownie (my plastic, back-yard bouncy horse) broke. I was mourning the loss of a friend, but I can still picture in my mind how heroic you looked walking up to fix it. And when all the boys would tease me for watching Dora, you laughed it off and watched it with me.  Love, Coe  

Jordan Sullivan (Eve's 2nd) The Papa Days, the pillow forts, the back rubs.  Thanks, Granddad! Looking forward to some more. Love- Jordan

LeeAnn Davis Derdeyn: Milking days where you got up at 3 a.m. and went to bed about 15 hrs later. Seems almost daily, we’d get home off the school bus, and by about 5 p.m. be pretty riled up, rowdy, arguing, whatever, and you’d come out bleary-eyed yelling, “Can’t anybody get some sleep around here?!” Oh wait, this is supposed to be good memories? Eve Sullivan: (You forgot the “For crying out loud!”)  haha LeeAnn: (oh, I did, who remembers this?) 

 Annual Dad reading of the Christmas gospel--our Davis family tradition that now Jim has taken on.

The two stories I don’t remember except through oral tradition, that Dad dropped me when I was an infant (no “oh, that’s what happened” jokes)  and Mom was so so so mad.

 And of course, walking in the pasture with him and arguing that the electric fence wasn’t hot because I knew things at 3 years old, all things because I come from a line of --female executive decision-makers (not opinionated women), I choose to define it-- Dad said, “Well, then wrap your mouth around it. and see.” So, I did.  Just the beginning of a set of shocks in life. Mom was so so so mad. Guess she got over all of these things though...

Christi Derdeyn Rudduck (LeeAnn's 3rd): When Michael and I were dating and he drove out to meet y’all for the first time, I warned everyone that he was quiet and shy and to take it a little easy on him because we were a lot to handle. So you took it upon yourself to “forget” his name, that entire first day and called him Fred, George, John, Steve... He says he “knew” it was a joke but I don’t think anyone but him believes it.

When I was little, (3 or 4) and you had that automatic horse exerciser out in the field in front of the barn and you hooked the baby swing up to it and let me ride it around in circles. As an adult (and parent) I appreciate the genius of an automatic no effort swing, but as a toddler, my grandparents having a fair ride in the yard was amazing.

Benji Derdeyn (LeeAnn's 2nd): Teaching me how to “shake hands like a man”.  I remember you use to move the bottom knuckle of my hand when I gave a weak handshake.  To this day I think about you every time someone gives me the cold fish hand, or the limp noodle fingers.  “Grandad Davis wouldn’t be having any of that.”

Giving me shoulder massages that felt like I might die halfway between, but always feeling much better post-initial torture.

Walking behind you in the back pasture and thinking that at every single fence out there was pulsing with electricity and that at any point a water moccasin might pop out, but it was ok because I was safe with grandad.

Riding in your old beat up truck down the back country road to get in that flat bottom boat.  Watching you thro the worms or lures under the overhanging tree branches being jealous that i couldn’t make into the same honey-holes.

Going fishing down at the lake. Walking out on the back porch to grab a pair of always-too-big rubber boots and clomping across the pasture  hurriedly along behind you with your steady stride. You always had a stick to knock the rattlesnakes on the ground or the boat paddle to knock the cotton mouth water moccasins that would try to climb up in the boat or just be hanging out in the low tree limbs.

Aaron Derdeyn (LeeAnn's 1st): I love you grandfather. You are in my thoughts. I will see you soon.

David Derdeyn (LeeAnn's 4th): Benji kinda stole mine about the massages but I couldn’t have said it any better. Also It was funny to hear the stories about you getting suspended from school because I’ve never heard much about your childhood. Anyways grandpa I love you, and I’m praying for you, and i’m looking forward to many more games played because you’re the only partner I ever have in joker and spades! Love you grandpa

Laura Fitzgerald (Saundra's 2nd): You’ve always been one of my favorite partners (and opponents!) to play card games with. Madeline and I never gave up hope that if we asked just one more time you’d let us do blind nello for 200 points, but you’ve stuck to your guns all these years.

I second David and Benji’s comments about the massages! You would always scold me for being so stressed and putting all that tension on my muscles, as if I could magically make medical school a walk in the park. I remember you guys came in town to Joy’s apartment once, and my friend’s mom made a special trip to downtown Dallas to get one of your world-famous massages to help with her TMJ disorder because we had bragged about you so much.

Back in high school when I had just gotten my first leg surgeries, my grandma on the Fitzgerald side jokingly told me that my scars made me look like Frankenstein. We shared her comment with you, to which you reassured me that I was still pretty enough to be a model if I wanted to be.

I always liked that you would take in stray dogs because to me they resembled your softer side. Even though you would get annoyed with them for barking too much and comment on how dumb some of them were, I knew deep down you really cared about them!

We love you and are all rooting for you!

Sarah Fitzgerald (Saundra's 1st): I’ll always be grateful for the time we shared with you and the Hooks family during our year in Joy’s not-so-big house. You always know how to push my buttons about my “organics program” or politics, but it makes my skin thicker and I appreciate you for it.

I’ll always remember the Christmas that you shot the rattlesnake on the porch, and your comment on one of my various haircuts:

Grandad: What happened to half of your hair?
Me: Asymmetrical haircuts are all the rage right now, Grandad.
Grandad: I'd be in a rage too if the barber fell asleep cutting my hair.

You’ve always been a model of perseverance; your “try, try again” attitude with whatever is at hand is something that I admire and try my best to emulate.

Thank you for all of the vegetable gardening lessons. I might not be spreading sacks of NPK around my beds, but I took careful notes on how to grow bucket potatoes, selecting okra pots to maximize next year’s yields, and the advantages of malabar.

Love you, and see you soon!

Tomás de Matteis (Sarah's husband): I loved the year we got to spend living as your neighbours in Hooks. It was so delightful to learn from you about the dairy farm, your garden, and it was always a joy to go to your house for an evening of joker. Coming to the US with Sarah in 2016 was a big change for me and you and Cecilia were so welcoming. You really made me feel like I was part of the family from day one.

Thanks for teaching Sarah and I how to align each other's vertebra and for being always so patient with my slow and strategic card game style.

I love that when I showed you the drone footage of the property, the first practical application was to use it as surveillance to detect when the hordes were coming in the end times. We’ll be keeping an eye for them.

Love you and see you soon!!!