Uncle Bill/Dad wrote this poem at age 13, when his father, Clyde Clifton Miller, was killed in a freak accident in 1938 in their hometown, Winston-Salem, N.C. Michael Northrup read it at Dad's funeral in 1996.
Dad wrote this in his "Grandfather Remembers" book:
My father was an automobile salesman, Texaco filling station oper
ator and contractor. When I was thirteen years of age, he was killed in an accident involving a truck he was driving and a Greyhound bus driven by a mechanic who was making a test run. The brakes on the Greyhound failed and the bus ran head-on into my dad's truck. He died shortly thereafter in the hospital without ever regaining consciousness. My mother [Mamie Louella Jackson Miller] had never worked outside the home, and the responsibility of the family fell on her and on [his older half-sister] Norma, and then the rest of us. Norma had graduated from high school already and I worked after school, Saturdays and summers in a grocery store. When a settlement was made with Greyhound, we received $60 per month till the last of us, Marilyn, graduated from high school.
Uncle Bill/Dad wrote this poem at age 13, when his father, Clyde Clifton Miller, was killed in a freak accident in 1938 in their hometown, Winston-Salem, N.C. Michael Northrup read it at Dad's funeral in 1996.
Dad wrote this in his "Grandfather Remembers" book:
My father was an automobile salesman, Texaco filling station oper
ator and contractor. When I was thirteen years of age, he was killed in an accident involving a truck he was driving and a Greyhound bus driven by a mechanic who was making a test run. The brakes on the Greyhound failed and the bus ran head-on into my dad's truck. He died shortly thereafter in the hospital without ever regaining consciousness. My mother [Mamie Louella Jackson Miller] had never worked outside the home, and the responsibility of the family fell on her and on [his older half-sister] Norma, and then the rest of us. Norma had graduated from high school already and I worked after school, Saturdays and summers in a grocery store. When a settlement was made with Greyhound, we received $60 per month till the last of us, Marilyn, graduated from high school.
1 comment:
Oh, Pam, that poem by your dad is just so moving. I'm going to print it out and keep it. Thank you for putting it up here.
Noah's family "genogram" (above) is also priceless. We made those in graduate school last year as we studied family systems. I'd say Chris must be a pretty important guy to Noah. That's very cool to see, especially how Noah made your dad's head just the right shape, and your glasses, and everything!
Love,
Brina
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