My Dad’s Eulogy

05 Feb 2011 1 Comment

by dirtpaws in Family Time, Loss Tags: dad's eulogy, Dr Perry Horton Eulogy, Dr. Horton, Dr. Perry J. Horton, funny stories about dad, Perry Horton

Hello, I am Catherine – Perry’s daughter if there are those here who do not know.

In this time of great sadness, I would like to spend a few moments sharing some of the lighter/funnier stories of my Dad. My dad, who convinced me that he had a computer program (this was in the 80s) that could record my voice if I talked on the phone past my curfew, who had a nickname for almost everyone we knew, including one of our cats who was pitch black and couldn’t simply be called “midnight” but “11:30,” who had a girlfriend at every Golden Corral from Lilburn to Jefferson. We all know Dad as being a jokester, so allow me to tell you some of his funny moments.

Dad was a lover of comedy and scary movies. Whether we were watching Elvira or GLOW which is (Gorgeous Ladies of Wresting) – in which mom would busy herself somewhere else – or he was “fake crying” to mom to allow us kids to stay up too late, there was usually a smile in the Horton household. This comedy stretched itself even to some of the more delicate moments… such as….

When I was in middle school and started to go through (eh hem) puberty, my Father was known to pronounce daily “ARE THE TROOPS COMING IN YET?” to my changing body. This was mortifying to me but as a lot of you know, this was just who my dad was. However, I ended up having the last laugh. One day he was having lunch with his colleagues and offered to drive his very nice sports car (which I later totaled but we’ll get there) to the restaurant. One of the men got into the back seat and promptly help up a white training bra and said, “Um, Perry – what is this?” My father (now the mortified one) then had to explain that his daughter had a habit of removing her training bra when it got uncomfortable and had apparently left it in the car floorboard. After a good laugh, and consequently a conversation with me afterwards regarding: “PLEASE KEEP YOUR BRA ON UNTIL YOU GET HOME” the training bra incident became a classic.

Dad was always getting on to Rick and me for sleeping in too late on school mornings. Often we would be found rushing through the house and tearing out of the driveway trying to make it to school without being tardy. I remember many “family meetings” where we were constantly reminded to get up early, make time for breakfast and to SLOW DOWN on the way to school. SO one morning, as Dad rushed through the house, late for the office, he stomped down the steps to his car, threw his briefcase in the backseat, jumped in the drivers seat, threw the car in reverse and stomped on the gas. Right into the closed garage door… It didn’t take much for Rick and me to begin hazing Dad when we arrived home from school to a collapsed garage door on top of his car. The “slow down in the morning” conversations ceased after that.

Speaking of going too fast, Dad always threatened to put governors on my gas peddle (Rick did he do that to you too?) to limit my top speeds which we argued against about profusely. So I’ll never forget the time Rick came home one evening to ask Dad if he was late today. Looking perplexed, Dad asked him what he meant. Rick then told him that he was forced out of the fast lane today on 85 by an older gentleman, in a Mazda, speeding past him with a “Greatest Dad on Board” sticker in his widow. I had given him that sticker for Father’s Day.

Speaking of cars, as I mentioned earlier, Rick and I have quite a reputation for wrecking cars. The wake of abandoned cars we left during our teenage years could probably fill a parking lot. However no matter what we did, how many mistakes we made, dad was always there to dust us off and help us move forward into adulthood. Our cars may not have been as nice as the first ones he provided for us, but he teaching us life lessons. About the value of a dollar and the importance of being responsible and proud of what you had.

The value of a dollar and warehouse shopping was big in the Horton household. I remember the story of my mother being sent to the store during a BOGO free sale at the store. When she returned with only one of the BOGO free items my father said, “Chris, where is the free item?” To which Mom replied, “Perry, I didn’t need two of these right now!” Well that was the end of that. The Horton Bomb Shelter as it is lovingly referred to was born. Shelves upon shelves of 100s of products, it literally looked like a small grocery store. When my parents moved from Killian Hill to Briarcrest I remember helping out with some of the move and looking at my mother as we shook our heads at the not only expired but had been expired for at least a decade.

Dad may have been frugal with some things but he was so generous with others. His mother, Grace (who we call Nanny) used to say “You kids don’t want for nothing” and she was right. Dad knew the importance of a dollar from growing up a preacher’s son. He worked to put himself through medical school so he could begin his own Podiatry practice. Then, while maintaining two Podiatry offices, (Lilburn and East Point) he went to Atlanta Law School at night to graduate Valedictorian in 1991 and began a law practice as well. If there was something we wanted, Dad made sure we had it. I am not saying we had every little thing, I am saying that we had more then we needed. I know that I was the first in my class to have not only a computer in my home, but also computer in my room.

My Husband and I were dating only five months when he asked Dad for my hand in marriage. I am sure he was quite nervous having only known my dad five months before going and asking such a monumental question. Again, my father, always cracking a joke, told my soon-be-fiancé when he answered the door that unless he had a computer in the trunk he should probably just head home. He soon smiled and told Eric that he would be overjoyed if we got married. That was over 11 years ago and my dad has talked since my wedding day about the “best son-in-law in the world.”

This leads me to what it has been like to have children of my own. My father always said “I hope you have FOUR just like you so you know what we are going through.” I have two kids, one biological and one adopted. My first, Porter, is just like me and I stopped there. Daddy didn’t raise no fool! I remember my dad constantly telling us kids to NOT TOUCH HIS STUFF! I always wondered why he was so particular about his and Mom’s things. I mean, they didn’t cost a lot, right? And they could just go buy another if I broke it so what did it matter? Now that I have kids of my own, I finally GET IT! I hear my fathers words come out of my mouth as I tell my children Don’t Touch My STUFF.

As Dad got older he needed to get a motorized wheelchair and he would take Porter rides on through Briarcrest, the neighborhood they moved to after Killian Hill. One day Porter asked him why he rode in a wheelchair instead of walking and my father, always joking around said, “Because I’m too lazy to walk!” Cue to several months later, to my HORROR as I hear my son ask a disabled woman in the check out line in Target, why she was TOO LAZY TO WALK.. We were in actually checking out, there was no place to run!

If you do not know, Dad and mom adopted me when I was three. That adoption prompted me to know that one day I would adopt a child as well. The other day my 4 year old adopted daughter, Grace (named after Perry’s mom) wrote some scribbles down on a notepad and I asked her what she was doing. She said, “Writing a letter to Grandpa.” I asked her what it said and she said, “Dear Grandpa, I am sorry that you are dead but I am alive and so is Grandma and I miss you.” Such true words. Yes, we are sorry that Dad is gone but we are alive and here to celebrate the things he passed along to us. We are alive to remember his love, his unending generosity to everyone and not just those he knew but to strangers as well.. And we are alive to remember his laughter, his jokes and ultimately his love to us all. Although I cannot carry on Dad’s legacy biologically I will carry it on through all of the things that made him, wonderfully and simply, my Daddy.