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From an old photo of me maybe three and my great grandfather, Daddy Short, out back near the chicken coop with the ocean really thirty miles away. He was a butcher and owned a general store. The stories I remember being told about him include his driving to the black side of town to pick up his employee and family and bring them to his home when a lynch mob was out and about. The other was his being famous for winning contests carrying a large calf on his shoulders.
My mother loved him very much. They fished together.
He died when I was six. I remember that day. My brother and I were playing out front by the birdbath. Everyone came out of the house dressed in black.