In Memory of Dad Heck

Now, most folks called him "Dad Heck"
A real respected gent ~
His warmth could win the coldest hearts
No matter where he went.

He had the bluest eyes:
"Number 2," he'd proudly state ~
The mischievousness that lurked there
No one else could duplicate.

He sported a white mustache
Which matched his snowy hair,
And when his strong voice boomed out
You'd hear him anywhere.

A master story-teller,
He'd talk the hours away ~
As fifty years ago was recalled
Just like yesterday.

He'd light his favorite smoking pipe,
And lean back in his chair;
And like a magic carpet ride,
He'd take you anywhere.

He'd talk of covered wagons
And 'bout the days of yore,
He spoke of things that took you back
A century before.

He'd tell you of the Philippines
While in the Cavalry ~
Of how he had to shoot a man:
"'Twas either him or me!"

He told of how a grain of wheat
Got lodged once in his head:
"The durned thing started growin' there"
(Leastways, that's what he said!)

He had a way of coaxin' things
To grow most anywhere ~
In fact, his melon took 1st place once
At the county fair.

His handsome looks as a young man
Would turn many a head ~
His curly hair and sky-blue eyes
Could knock the ladies dead.

He kept his winsome, charming ways,
His dignity and pride ~
Those blue eyes fairly danced with mirth
Until the day he died.

He lived until a ripe old age:
A hundred years and one ~
He spent his days just lovin' folks
From dawn to settin' sun.

Townfolk speak well of Dad Heck,
Guess that's what friends are for...
They miss him, but he had to go ~
The good Lord missed him more!

--Connie

For my beloved grandfather
John Burns Heckendorn
Born September 21, 1874
Died January 4, 1976

"I will be your God through all your lifetime,
yes, even when your hair is white with age.
I made you and I will care for you.
I will carry you along
and be your Savior."
(Isaiah 46:4 LB)