My Dad, Earl Ferrell, was the last child of his parents, Marion Ferrell and Molly Gertrude Archer Ferrell. Dad was born on 9/17/1927. I am the first of four sons, of Earl and Betty (Wood) Ferrell. I was born on 7/17/1960.
Dad joined Mom, on 1/25/2008. I remember. I know the details. I do not want to repeat them in this article. They are not pleasant. I still remember.
Dad, with his eighth grade education, did well enough. He provided for all six of us. He continued Ferrell's Well Drilling, after Papaw Ferrell had started the business, in 1901. The next photograph is proof. I know. I have the photograph. You will not doubt me.
By the way, that phone number is not active any longer. If you are looking for well-drilling, please don't call Dad. He's no longer in the business.
The next photograph is an invoice that Dad wrote on 1/18/1958. That was before Mom and he married. That was before I was born. I thought that you would like to see the photograph.
Dad was always thankful. He had a hard life. Many of us do. I do. Today was Monday, 1/25/2021. I worked from home. Mrs. Appalachian Irishman drove to and from her work. We endured. It rained most of the day.
In the midst of my work insanity, I thought that I heard Dad say, “at least you didn't have to work outside, at the well machine, in the rain, son!” Yes, Dad, I know. You did it more times than you could have counted. I was at home, trying to work through the insanity of my job. I have it easier than you ever did. Still, I don't care for what I do. You enjoyed your self-employed job. I remember.
Dad would say, in reply, “it's life, such as it is, son.” He would be right. I know it. At 5:45 PM, as the evening falls, Mrs. Appalachian Irishman is busy with supper leftovers. I hear her. It's still cloudy and rainy.
Dad, I know that men don't drop the “L” word, so I'll just say that I miss you! You were and still are a fine father. Tell Mom and so many others that I will see y'all again, in time, once I am Home too!