My Dad...

As some of you may know, my dad passed away on July 20. It has been hard, but the outpouring of family, friends, and community has been generous and overwhelming. Thank you for all your kind words and deeds. I will always be forever grateful.

For the prayer service and funeral, I put my radio skills to use and produced a tribute to my dad . Here is the text and list of songs:

(Davey Crocket Theme)
(George Strait - Love Without End, Amen)

Everyone always tells me “You sound so much like your mother,” but when you get down to it my strong will, my sense of humor, my love of family, always wanting to get a job done just so (many times referred to as the Gratton way) I truly am my father’s daughter. My dad has taught me so much more than I even can begin to realize. I spent many a hot summer day outside our shop working on machinery or out in the field with my dad. When I was young I would often ride in the combine with him where he would amaze me by multiplying two two-digit numbers in his head or by guessing the exact time by looking at the sun.

Randy was a man of logic and reason. Everything had its place, everything had its time. His shop was his showplace where he kept things exactly where they logically should be. I can remember times where I would be looking for some tool, and he could tell me when he bought it, how much it cost, the last time it was used, and sometimes even who used it last. And if you couldn't find it he would always say “It’s right there can’t you see it? It’s right in front of your face.” Sometimes I’d find it, and sometimes he would have to come in, point directly at where I was looking and say “Why don’t you use that one until you find it.”

And if something wasn’t right in it’s place he would always know. One day Stewart Hofer, Jack Shide, and my mom thought it would be funny if they moved some of the tools and wrenches around to see if he would notice. He walked into the shop, said hello and went to put the tools how they should be, without missing a beat. My mom said they were rolling on the floor with laughter.

Randy took pride in farming and doing the best job that he could. Over the years, I seem to have one continuous memory of crop touring. We would go around and look at fields, try to solve the world’s problems one at a time, and still manage to make it home in time for supper.

Out of all the different aspects of farming, we think that Randy really liked combining the best. And he could definitely multi-task. He could unload an auger, talk on the phone, even talk to the person next to him, and run his 25-foot header all the way down the field straight as an arrow. He would say “You can look back at the field at the end of the day and see that you really accomplished something.”

I can definitely tell that combining was his favorite because even Courtney and I, our two memories that we remember most are definitely of hanging out in the combine. Courtney tells the story of her bopping around in the combine, watching the grasshoppers, watching the wheat fill up behind the window in the back. And then she would turn to the toolbox in the left front corner of the cab. She would fasten all the latches and then look up at dad and ask, “What’s in the toolbox?” He’d always have some Gratton-esque answer such as pirate’s sunken treasure or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. So Courtney would get all excited that she would be getting this fabulous thing that he told her, unlatch the toolbox then say “No silly. It’s just tools.”

So many times my dad and I would drive each other crazy, mostly because we were so alike. Sometimes we would even team up to drive my mom crazy. Does whining in harmony sound familiar? My mom says that whining is not attractive. The brand of humor that my dad and I shared was definitely special.

Randy and Janet, Ringer and the Old Girl, R and J, and to Courtney and I Mombo-Combo and Daddyschmo. These two loved each other so much. You could always tell that they had found their other half. They were always so dedicated to each other and to Courtney and I. I can definitely say that no one could have chosen a better set of parents.

During his time in the hospital, I became sharply aware of how proud he was of my sister Courtney and I. Each time I came to visit him, his nurses would gush and ask questions such as “Are you the one going to China? Your dad sure talks about you a lot.” He didn’t always understand why Courtney and I do what we do, but he was quick to tell of our exploits and successes.

Randy is a man of many stories, more than I could ever remember, so I need your help in remembering them. Tell them often to as many people who will listen. Laugh, smile because those simple joys of life were what I enjoyed sharing with my dad the most.

I have faith that he is in a better place now, with good health and old friends. And I will always remember:
Every time someone has a quick witted response to a silly question…
Every time Jeff Gordon or Junior comes from behind to win a race…
Every time someone mutters under their breath about the green on number 4…
Every time you hear that great old country song on the radio, you know the ones where you can understand the words…
Every time I take a breath, he’ll be there.

Randy, Ringer, Nupie, Daddy-o, Daddy-schmo…a man of many names but an unmistakably original man. He may be physically gone, but he will never be forgotten.

(Randy Travis - Forever and Ever, Amen)