Someone on backyard herds asked me to tell something about my dad... I could write a book... so I restrained... and just wrote the first few things that fell into my head... and I decided to paste it here too. Hope you enjoy:
Well... he was a character. He was always very anti- PC, but usually very kind, and always unfailingly generous.
He would talk to the people most people ignore. So the guy handing him his meat at the meat counter at the grocery store... my dad would ask him how his family was... and MEAN it. And always listen sympathetically or with excitement to whatever the response was.
He always made me feel that I and my siblings, were his greatest joy, and most wonderful gift. He also always made it clear that he was thrilled my mom agreed to marry him.
He was super old fashioned... but even when I failed at learning Latin well enough to talk to him in Latin... he never made me feel like a failure over it.
I did finally learn all of the Roman provinces in Northern Africa... but have now forgotten. I remember asking him WHY do I have to memorize that? He answered "but what if you fall into a worm hole that transfers you across space and time, and deposits you in a random location in Northern Africa during the Roman Empire??? You will need to find your way back to Rome!" "Yes, Papa" was the only polite and acceptable answer... so memorize I did.
I also had to memorize family stories.. back as far as they go... which luckily is only about 1800. And all of the family names back to 17 something.
I had to shoot well, and he helped me to learn when I was so young he would have to hold the end of the rifle up because it was too heavy for me (I was a very scrawny kid) but I didn't have to rope.
He had never been very good at roping, but he had great stories of helping his uncle on the ranch.
One summer his uncle bought a used 2 hole outhouse. And he decided he wanted it on the far end of the ranch, so he could use it if he was out that way. (I know... odd... whatever... maybe he got it for free)
But with all the ranch land being solid rocks... wheels or a travoi were out of the question. So they had to sling it between 2 ranch horses and have the horses move in tandem all the way to the far end of the ranch. My dad said it took all day, and was about the death of them.
Then they did the same thing a different summer with a great big metal water trough. That was worse, since it was across the ranch then down into a ravine.
He remembered after the war all of the vagrants. Mostly men back from the war that couldn't for one reason or another get a job. They would knock on the house door asking for food or money. His mom would always station my dad at the door to talk to them, and make sure that they weren't tempted to steal anything, while she fixed them a lunch. She always made them a lunch, usually with a big meat filled sandwich.
My dad while in high school worked for Dr. Denton Cooley the guy who figured out how to do heart transplants. My dad loved that. But he was most proud of the fact that he got to be deputy sheriff for a good number of years. He was all kinds of proud of that shiny metal star and was forever showing it off!
Talking of proud.. he was very proud to be a Texian. 6th generation. Mexican, and Texian, but not American. He wasn't anti-American... he just thought Texas was better.
On letters that he addressed to Texas while traveling overseas, he would write TEXAS in huge letters, and USA in tiny letters underneath the huge TEXAS.
We had to schedule longer times to get past the passport people when traveling to wherever. Because when asked "Country of origin?" He always answered "Texas!" When they said "but isn't that part of the US?" He would answer, with this hugely theatrical hang dog face "Sadly, you are correct sir."

Very nice Bio!