My father closed his eyes in death Nov. 22, 1997..
and even though he is sorely missed, the memories
instilled in my mind are very much alive.

Portrait of Love

I see in this snapshot a man courageous and strong
Toiling earnestly, for his family, all the day long.
It tells of the love felt in those work-worn hands..
Yes, the hands of a dear kind-hearted gentleman.

This snapshot tells of a father's tender loving care
Which through good and bad times, was always there.
From my earliest years, the word, "father," meant
to me...
Love, courage, strength, and above all...security!

No finer portrait of love, in
this world, could ever be...
Than the one my father painted
in my memory!

� By Martha Franks
This poem was written for my father while
he was yet living..Fathers Day 1996 (revised 1999)
Music playing is...
"What a Difference You Made in My Life"

My father was a wonderful christian man who enjoyed life.
He was full of compassion and always willing to give all that
he possessed to help others. Some of my earliest memories
are of Dad plowing the garden with me right beside him on our
old tractor....or standing close by as he milked our cow,
"Minnie". He was an automobile mechanic and I loved to spend
time after school just hanging out at the shop. I can still
hear him whistling a tune as he worked and remember so well
how he used to dig into his pocket pulling out a shiny dime..
with that familiar twinkle in his eye, he would hand it to me
telling me to get myself a cold drink from the drink machine.
I thought he was the greatest dad on earth! Many times I
marvelled at the patience of this man..like the time he took
the family fishing and my line somehow ended up getting
tangled with his, seeing how I was too close to him when I
cast in,... I loved being next to him wherever he was!
He just untangled the line speaking to me gently, encouraging
me...could it be he sensed my embarrassment? I think so!
When I needed guidance he was always there and his strong
arms were always open when I needed somewhere to run
to cry. Dad didn't "tell" me how to live....he "showed"
me! Now that he is gone, he is missed so very much and
though he is not with me this Fathers Day he will always
be with me in thought!

A poem written by my brother, Harold.

Thinking of Dad

It's almost Fathers Day again and
I am feeling pretty sad,
as I look back and remember all the
fun times we enjoyed together,
me and Dad.
I recall the times I sat upon his knee,
not knowing who was the proudest,
my father or me.
I look back on the time we lived in that
little farm house which was really quite small,
I remember my father saying,
"that's okay I 'll make room.." and he knocked
out the wall.
I also recall riding on my father's motorcycle,
a bright shiny black;
with me a straddle the tank, and my brother
on the back.
The times I had with my father were the best
of my childhood days,
and to tell him how I loved him...there were
never enough ways.
My father worked hard for the things he knew
we would need,
with no thought of himself, and no selfishness
nor greed.
My father is gone now and I miss him dearly
with each passing day,
to tell him how much I love him,
I long for a way.

I dedicate this in memory of our father,
Charles M. Phillips
� by Harold L. Phillips June 10, 1999

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