As Kaisey is going into the journalism field of work, I got the articles and columns that Rommyn wrote out so she could read them. I thought I would share some of the columns that Rommyn wrote. This first one is from June 16, 2002. He was working at the Star News in Wilmington, NC at the time.
Trying to follow in my father's boot steps
I had known him for 33 years, although the last 10 had probably been the best. As a young child, I remember climbing into his cowboy boots, their soft leather tops slapping just below the knee caps as I wobbled around his house pretending to be a cowboy.
In my teen-age years, I feed his horses, and again slipped on his boots, this time to go out into his world and walk through the sandy soil into the barn to care for the animals he loved so dearly.
We nearly had the same size foot by this time, but the boots were still too large, and my feet slipped slightly as I worked my way up the stairs to the loft, where I dropped hay through the trap door into the stalls below. I had to be careful in the the pasture not to twist an ankle or stumble because I was wearing his boots, and they were a precarious fit on me.
I grew up and went away to college, then got married and moved around the county. I began raising a family of my own. He and I were still close - closer probably then ever before because, after I turned 19 or so, I started seeing him for the man he was, not the man I thought he was. He was principled and forthright, incredibly strong and amazingly sensitive, simple in his views yet profound in his dedication to integrity.
It was during these past 10 years that I'd learned to seek his advice on everything from changing brake pads to dating to raising a family. As a child, I'd kept many of my feelings to myself, but for the past few years, my life had become an open book to him. And although he hated to read, he read every page I gave him, and I had begun to give him many.
Then suddenly one night I was wearing his cowboy boots again. The leather was still worn and smooth, but the tops came up only slightly higher on my shins than they did on his.
And this time, I was wearing his coveralls. And they nearly fit, too. A strange feeling seeped from his clothes into my soul as I thought of the years I had spent away from him, only to find myself, literally in his shoes, caring for his animals at his house as he lay in the hospital with wires and monitors around his heart.
I had often dreamed of returning to his house, but this was a different sensation. I was man enough to wear his shoes, although they were still just slightly too big to fill. And though his coveralls fit, they were a loose skin around me, and I knew I was but an imitation of the life they were used to covering.
Yet, I knew he would be proud of me, regardless of how awkwardly I wore his wardrobe. Or his legacy. I was walking in his shoes on ground I held dear, and a sense of kinship ignited in me that can only be felt when a boy grows up and knows he has become a man...and realizes that, no matter what, he'll never be the man his father has been to him.
Rommyn's father's health is fine now, and he spends plenty of time in the barn and riding his horses, as well as teaching his grandchildern to ride. Rommyn volunteers to feed the horses when his father is out of town.
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Rommyn would be very proud of what his kids are doing now and how they have come to love their Grandpa Skipper and his horses. McKay now helps with they hay and oats, and feed the animals when Grandpa is out of town. Taelyn loves being with the horses as well.
1 comment:
I remember this one. Still sweet!
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