I’ve put this off long enough. It’s here whether I like it or not, so I have to deal with it.

As I write this, it’s Saturday afternoon on July 5, 2025, a little more than sixteen hours before the call from Mom came at 5:45 that something was wrong with Dad in 2020.

My life changed forever that morning, and got much more difficult much more frustrating and much more complicated, and in many ways, it still is.

For my Mom and I, Dad was our rock. He was the dependable father who always took care of us, even when times were lean early on. He was an incredibly talented musician and entertainer. He was a generous man in private and in business.

He was the kind of man who gave writer’s credit to his band, no matter how much or little of a song they had contributed, several former band members or their families still earn money from the songs they performed on.

He loved horses, he loved dogs and cats, he loved people, he could strike up a conversation with a complete stranger and he would give you his last dollar, or even the shirt off his back.

He was kind, he was wise and he gave great hugs.

AN OPEN LETTER TO THE CLASS OF 1996 - UNCW

I would like to clear up a few points about my addressing your class at commencement exercises, points which I feel have been distorted by a few overzealous, uninformed,pseudo-journalists.

I will not address the one-hit wonder,” “goober brained redneck” aspect of these pieces, and one letter published in The Seahawk I will not address at all except to say that the racial overtones it contained were totally unfounded and offensive beyond description.