On July the 28th, 1941 Elmo and Drucilla Snow welcomed the birth of their first born son, Bobbie Lee Snow into their small Comanche, Texas home. Their later arrivals, were two daughters, Yvonne and Virginia Marie; and later still, they were followed by another son, Richard Elmo.
Yet, it was the freckled faced, red head turned white - "Bob"; who is the individual that has drawn us all together here today. Bob Snow was the great-grand father of Savannah, and Jamison Garza, the grandfather of Elizabeth Rebecca, and the father of two sons: Tracy Lee Snow and David DeLane Snow.
After many personal struggles, and a losing battle with emphysema, and heart problems, my dad passed-away from this life unto the next, on April 2nd 2008. Humorously, one of the last things my dad said to me during his final hospital stay was, "Son, a lot of people talk about going home to be with Jesus; well, I've got a few things to chat with him about too. I'll be fine son, just take care of your family."
My father was the type of man, that - really at any point during his life, you would automatically realize as one who took things seriously. A no nonsense kind of guy, who preferred getting down to the business at hand. He was a perfectionist; sometimes to a fault. I remember a motto he lived by, and continuously drove home to me, by how he conducted himself in public: "If you don't have time to do things right the first time, then when will you?" Which, was just his way of saying - "Son, be the best man you can possibly be, at all times."
He was a devout and loyal friend, to any who claimed him as such. He fiercely believed in God; and earnestly sought the presence of deity in his daily experience. My dad was a fly fisherman, an artist, a metal worker, a pizza maker, an engraver, certainly not least - a beloved school-bus driver; but above and beyond all else - he was a man of integrity. Though I am not my father, I am no less proud to announce, that I am one of the sons of Bobbie Lee Snow. I love you dad, and we'll miss you greatly - thank you for being a part of all our lives.
I wrote a poem years ago, and after dabbling on it here and there it continues to grow out of control. THE NEPHILIM AGE has become a complex epic, with detailed layers and characters I never originally envisioned.
A How To...
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle Autumn's rain.
When you wake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die.
Pagan, Christian, and agnostic alike, [know]... that
these words expressed the "right" things at the death of a much-loved person.
But to be born again, you must die
The Paganistic origins of Christianity run deeper than you know. Even its most basic notion of the resurrection of the devine was borrowed from the Pagans; Blessed Be!
I came across a really fasinating site the other day.
