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My father was a self-taught mandolin player. He was one of the best string instrument players in our town. Dad loved to play the mandolin for his families, who enjoyed listening to his play and1the Tennessee Waltz, Hatbor nights, Silver Bells, and so on. Dad was always there,2his time and efforts to see that his family had3in their life. If he could give pleasure to others, he4especially his families. I had to mature into a man and have children of my own5I realized how much he had sacrificed.
I 6 the United States Air Force in January of 1962. Whenever I come home on7I would ask Dad to play the mandolin. He could touch your soul with the 8 that came out of that old instrument. He seemed to 9when he was playing you could see his pride in his ability to play so well for his family.
While working at Todd Steel, Dad was 10in an accident. He got the third index finger of his left hand 11 between two pieces of steel. The doctor who operated12the finger could not save it, and Dad ended up having the tip of the finger13. He didn't lose enough of the finger,14it wouldn't stop him picking up anything, but it did15his ability to play the mandolin.
After the accident, Dad would make16for why he couldn't play. We wore him down and17he said “Okay, but remember, I can't hold down on the strings18I used to”.19 for the family it didn't make any 20that Dad couldn't play as well.
