There are a lot of little stories, legends, myths, and facts that reveal themselves when family gathers for any event. And a funeral is no exception.
In the attempt to get all the family in for Dad's funeral my sister Trisha and her husband John were attempting to get Alex to Tulsa from Harding University in Searcy, Arkansas. It did not work out but he was with us in spirit as many were.
As we were discussing the logistics of getting Alex here for his grandpa's funeral, Mom mentioned, "My grandfather died while I was at Harding."
Trisha replied, "My grandfather died while I was at Harding." (Our grandfather, Mom's Dad, was killed in a car accident in 1969.)
That makes three straight generations of our family who have lost grandfathers while attending Harding.
In mentioning this fact to my uncle, Troy Almand, he mentioned that he too had lost a grandfather while he was a student at Harding.
I have never claimed to be the sharpest pencil in the drawer but it does not take much intelligence to figure out the pattern here. And if you think I am allowing my grandson to go to Harding you are mistaken!
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