Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Pizza!: Memories of my father

Twenty-seven years ago my life changed. I went from a child with an idealistic life living in the Garden of Eden to one of having a bucket of ice water dumped on me. My father died. Now you would say that would make anyone sad, their life changes, etc. I would agree with you to a point. But it was around this time that I actually liked hanging out with my father. We had finally started to get on the same page.

I remember he took me to a Mizzou football game and introduced me to tailgating and where he had sat in the same seats at Faurot Field for 35 years. Then we went for dinner at Bobby Bufford and discussed the pros and cons of owning your own equipment verses having someone work your farm land. I can still remember the sun setting in the west and its golden rays play along I-70. I felt that my father actually listened to me and took what I had to say seriously, as a grown up. Perhaps that was why he passed when he did. He thought I was ready. Well yes and no.

My faith made me ready for my father leaving. I remember driving like a bat out of Hell from Columbia to the farm and making it in 45 minutes. When I got out of the car, Helen came through the back porch door and just said, "He's gone Jim Barton." I turned and walked across to the field and stared to the North, I don't remember too much except going to the hospital in Fayette and seeing my father laid out on a table. Then I sank down in a hallway outside that room. I really don't recall much at that time. But, because of my faith I knew, I just KNEW that my father was Heaven, out of pain and having a blast talking and meeting everyone. My father was more out going than I ever am; I get my personality from him. I wasn't really sad, except that I would miss him and miss the support I had from him. No matter what disagreements we ever had, I knew that my father had my back. No questions asked. He knew that I would never lie to him. Oh, we both stretched the truth; but as all Old Boys know; We. Never. Lie. To one of our own. So if anything happened, my father had my back. We played it straight; on the level and by the plumb. I am also so glad that my father saw me return all 3 of my degrees in my Blue Lodge.

His death also proved something that I knew; I have the best friends from Kemper. My family. That's what they are. Beyond blood. My father's funeral proved that. Not only was he loved and respected by many, but we all were family. Just like Chief's funeral. At dad's there were Old Boys who literally flew in just for the funeral and then had to immediately leave.How many? More than I can count on both hands and feet.

To this day, when Eric and I talk, we both remember this date, August 20.

I had to grow up; a battlefield promotion in some respects. Launched from a carrier, the sub dove, jumping out of an airplane, whatever metaphor that means that I was on my own. I had men and women who had my back, but for the most part it was going to be just me.

Today I am a better person than I was then. I mean I was a good guy, but just seemed to give lip service to things and still had growing up to do. I am so far from where I was then, you couldn't see it using the Hubble telescope. And like starlight, that star died a long time ago, but the light is still with us.

So that day will be one that I mark in my heart. I know Eric is marking it; as he loved my father. Eric will mark my father and his father passing on that big heart of his. I pray for them both, for Eric and myself.

George has said to me that I need to quit trying to live up to my father. That's actually impossible; there is no way I could ever do that. He was a better man than I can ever be. I can and do live by many of the things made him who he was. But I am not him. I am from him, a part of him and for that I will be eternally grateful. For those who knew him, they still speak very fondly of him and that is one of the best epitaph I know. I hope I am as well remembered when I am gone.

Thank you Dad. I know I never told you that enough. And because we were men, we never said 'I love you' after I got to Kemper as much. I know you knew I loved you and followed in your footsteps. I also remember lessons learned from you; those things that you never really taught me, that I saw about you and learned things that you didn't know you were teaching. Because when you tried to actually teach me things, it didn't go so well. Just like when I tried to teach you how to use the computer (Apple IIc). We just never could actually teach the other, we had to learn from the other when teaching wasn't the goal.

I know you are looking down on me. I know I have made you proud and also shamed you on some things. But I also know that you love me no matter what and that if I can be a tenth of the man you were I will be someone. I know you and Chief are up there sitting in chairs, a bottle of Jack Daniels between you watching me as I bumble and fumble through this life. Occasionally rising above the milk with the cream.

I am under no illusion; my father was not perfect. And there are some things that I know I should have stood up for that would have changed my life. But then, I wasn't ready at that time. It took his passing for the cement to harden. But he was a perfect father for me.

I love and miss you Dad. Thank you for everything you did for me, tried to do for me and everything in between.