Father's Day 2025: Pictures of Dad

Today is Father's Day.  And more than usual I'm feeling melancholy.  This is the eleventh Father's Day without Dad.  There's not a day that comes and goes, that I don't think about him.  He always had great advice.  What he liked to tell me often was "Always think positive!"  He told me that even though he knew I was struggling with a mind turned against itself.  He may not have understood what it meant to have that but he still abounded in empathy.

Thought I'd share some photos of him.  This first one dates to November 2006.  It's of Dad in his favorite place: his beloved knife shop.  It was really rainy and cold that day and I went by the shop to ask him something.  This is how I found him: reclined back in a chair with his pipe, thinking up new projects.  It's classic Dad.  Click to enlarge:

This next one is one of the best taken of him ever.  This photo, taken in February of 2012, was published in newspapers and websites across America.  It depicts Dad and his friend John Ashe.  This was for a story about John being an independent farmer.  Someday I'm going to get this photo blown up, printed, and framed for my wall.  Click to enlarge:

This is from the day we brought Tammy home in May of 2012.  She was six weeks old.  Click to enlarge:

A look at Dad's more whimsical side. Wearing his Camp Carefree Chili Cook-Off cap:

This was taken for the church photo directory.  I've got this picture framed and on display in my living room:

And then there's this one: Dad and I together on my fortieth birthday:

There is one other photo that I'm trying to find.  I'll post it here if I can locate it.

Edit 06/16/2025: I knew I had it somewhere!  For many years this pic hung on the wall in Dad's shop.  On the left side of the photo is George Herron, a master of crafting folding knives.  At center is Dad  On the right is Bill Moran, the gentleman who rediscovered the art of making Damascus - that is, folded - steel.  This picture was taken during a knifemaker's meeting and as you can see it depicts Dad, George, and Bill standing outside smoking their pipes.  There's a real sense of belonging and camaraderie among the knifemaking community.  It comes with sharing a love and passion for the art.  This photo captures and conveys that beautifully.  I've come to know a lot of knifemakers over the years, they come in practically all varieties of people.  George and Bill were some of the best and Dad was very honored to have gotten to know them.  A few days after Dad passed I was in his shop and saw this picture up on the wall, and I couldn't help but imagine George and Bill and now Dad up in Heaven with their pipes in their mouths and talking about their mutual love for the craft.  Anyway, here it is:

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Ten years ago this morning

It was about this time, ten years ago today, that I held your hand.  That rough calloused hand that could never be still enough to heal.  You were always doing for others, especially in your shop whenever you decided someone deserved to own one of your handmade knives.

We held your hands as you slipped away from the body that had become a prison.  I knew it was the right thing to have done, to sign the paper that would let you go when it was time.  But it made it no easier.

I would have given anything to have you back, healthy in body and mind.

I've needed you.  I hope I've been able to make you proud.

I miss you, Dad.

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Twelve Years Later: Forgiving Mom

The realization hit me this morning that today is the twelfth anniversary of Mom's passing.

 

I've written about her before, here.  Maybe too much.   Sometimes all the hurt and anguish builds up and demands, even needs a vent.  Some people do that with art.  Or going out for a drive.  I learned a long time ago that I can't paint and I'm a threat to everyone on the road if I'm not in the right state of mind for driving.

 

I guess, I'm writing this to note how much my attitude toward Mom has changed in the past year or so.

 

There is no forgetting the things she did.  I can still hear her screaming "You're retarded!" at me.  The beatings.  The humiliations, often in front of friends (mine or hers).  Her telling me I wouldn't count for anything, and how much I believed her and maybe still believe on some level.  The list goes on.

 

I don't even know if I ever got a sincere loving hug from her.  She may have thought I was too deformed, too broken: the result of a birth that almost ended in my death and that close family insist made me mentally defective.

 

No, there is no forgetting those and more.  Mom had, as a dear friend put it, "a kernel of cruelty".

 

But in the past year or so, something has happened that surprises me as much anyone...

 

I've begun to forgive her.

 

It's not complete. Not yet. But maybe that's coming.

 

I've gradually started to let go of my anger and hatred toward her.  Have stopped letting it dominate my life, for the most part.   Maybe, even, coming to sympathize with her a little.

 

Because she was NOT all bad.  She did work hard to provide our family with food and clothing.  She also worked so that my sister and I would benefit from a private school education.  And there was never a bad Christmas, when Mom and Dad were behind it.  We always got nice presents from Santa that morning.

 

Mom did have her sweet moments, too.  They were so sporadic as to be complete surprises.  A few times she would come home from work, and having stopped at the Eden Mall along the way to get some things, and she would have a new Transformer toy for me (I so loved those little guys).  There were times when she surprised us with Domino's pizza for dinner.

 

I can't unfairly account for her bad, without doing likewise with her good.

 

Perhaps I must be content to resort to believing thus: that Mom was a very complicated person, who sometimes let the worst come out but was also capable of good.  That's the best I'll probably ever get to have on this side of the veil.

 

In her final year, she did once say something about how she had treated me at times.  Telling me that "wasn't the real me".  I've thought long and hard about that.  Was it just a lie, one of many that she told me over the years?   I don't know. I'll never know.   But like I just said, that's likely the best I'll ever get.  The closest to a real apology from her. I've got to do my best to accept it.

 

Nothing good she did will completely erase the hurt. But I can choose to overlook those, for sake of allowing myself to love the woman who, for good or bad, did bring me into the world.

 

Maybe writing this and sharing these thoughts will bring me closer to closure. And perhaps these words will resonate with others, who likewise are having a hard time letting go of anger and bitterness. I can tell you that forgiving someone can be a very hard thing. But it really will bring you a freedom that you've never known.

 

If I can forgive my mother, then anyone can forgive... and be forgiven.

 

 

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Tammy: Feelin' Fine

Have had some scary time lately with Tammy, my miniature dachshund.  Two weeks ago she hurt her back around her hind quarters area.  I took her to the vet and sure enough, she probably injured herself jumping onto and off from the sofa and bed all this time.  The vet gave her three medications and I've been sleeping in the living room since then, close to where she's made a nest of her blankets on the floor.  Just making her take it easy.

Fourteen days later and Tammy is much better!  She's still not allowed to try to jump onto furniture, so I've been carefully picking her up and putting her on the sofa so she can be near me while I work.  She seems to be satisfied with the arrangement.  Here she is from this afternoon:

A very dear friend is in the process of making Tammy a set of ramps that she can use to get on the bed and sofa without risk of injury.  Which maybe I should have done a long time ago already.

But for the time being, she is recovered and spunky as ever.  She's happy, and that makes me happy too :-)

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Haven't done a "Tammy Tuesday" in awhile

For some time I was posting new pics of my miniature dachshund Tammy every Tuesday.  It's been a fair bit since I've done that.  But it just so happened that I caught a really good snapshot of her this afternoon while I was working at the desk in my living room.  I was eating some crackers and she insisted that I pay her the "cracker tax" (there's also the "chicken tax", the "cheese tax", the "barbecue ribs tax", etc.)...

I know: Tammy is not as red as she used to be.  Well, she is over eleven years old.  There's no not facing that.  But she's still in excellent health, and if you saw how playful she is you would think she's much younger than her age.  She always accompanies me when I turn in for the night and she makes sure that she takes a toy to bed, just like a human child would bring a stuffed doll.  I've been told by the vet that if Tammy maintains good health and is kept at an ideal weight, that we'll be in each other's company for many years to come.  Which, would make me very happy.

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Richard "The Carpenter": Twelve generations of Knights

 Dad used to tell me that he didn't want to study our family tree too much.  "There's going to be someone there who wore a rope for a necktie", he would say.  In most part Dad was content with knowing his grandfather, Samuel Knight - born in 1887 - and not much further.

(Samuel's wife, Maggie Warren, was born in 1880 and died in 1979.  I'm old enough to remember her in her final years... and that's a pretty neat thing, to have known someone who knew Civil War veterans and was a young lady when the Wright Brothers flew their plane.)

With not much else to do with my own time these past several months, I thought it would be intriguing if I started to research our family history.  Quietly praying that there wasn't some scoundrel of ill repute back there anywhere.  And now I can say that ours does go back quite a bit and they left a trail behind them.

Knight family cemetery, Rhode Island

So it turns out that I'm the great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandson of one Richard Knight, aka Richard "the Carpenter" Knight.  Born around 1620 in the Norfolk, England area.  He came to the colonies circa 1640, at first in what is today New Hampshire.  But after "some legal trouble" - namely evading the authorities after being charged with theft - Richard left and settled in Rhode Island.  He was a carpenter, a miller, and a deacon.  He was also apparently a veteran of King Philip's War, because of the one hundred acres he was awarded following the conflict.  Richard had two wives, the second being Sarah.

Richard and Sarah had six children.  One of them was David Knight, my grandfather eleven times removed.  And it turns out that many of Richard's immediate male descendants were blacksmiths by trade.

Huh.

Dad was a knifemaker.  He put together most of his equipment, including his forge and his power hammer.  He even welded together the anvil that he would bang and shape the blades on.  He made a lot of knives, more than we realized at the time of his passing.

And now it turns out that though he never knew it, he was following in the footsteps of our remote ancestors.

I've been finding information about some others along the family tree.  One grandfather was Thomas Jefferson Knight, born shortly after the Revolutionary War.  At least one family member fought in the American Revolution itself.  Thomas' brother, Absalom Knight (is that a bad-a$$ name or what?) took part in the War of 1812.  To the best of my research, one of my direct ancestors owned a slave: name unknown.  He willed the slave to his wife following his death.  So, there is that tidbit.   I haven't found any indication that anyone in my direct lineage fought in the Civil War, but it wouldn't surprise me if someone along one of the branches participated.  I say that because North Carolina sent more soldiers than any other state in the Confederacy, and Rockingham County provided more than its share of those soldiers.  So the likelihood that I've an ancestor who fought in the War Between the States is moderately high.

And it all goes back to Richard the Carpenter.  Who came to the New World and it sounds as if he lived an interesting life.

Who knows.  Maybe some bit of prior research eludes me.  And that it may be possible to take the lineage back even further.  But if not, I'll be content to be the scion of Richard the Carpenter.

I hope he would have been satisfied that I've tried to live a life even a little bit as illustrious as his.

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Here it comes: The Knight Shift SWIMSUIT EDITION!

You couldn't resist, could you?  You were duly warned.  You were told that there was nothing that I could do.  And yet some of you couldn't keep yourselves from asking me about her.  SOME of you even went so far as to offer money for her Facebook page.  And I can't do that either.

But never let it be said that this blog doesn't try to deliver.

So it is that today, I bring to you the first ever...

The Knight Shift

SWIMSUIT EDITION

Featuring my beautiful cousin Rachael as she models a variety of cutting-edge swim attire.  As well as more about her, in her own words.

"I'm local in Miami but plan to travel internationally this summer. I'm happily single and plan on that for awhile lol"

  
"I eat honey every day. And I love God and life!"

"I hope to stay in the light and be a light no matter the darkness I've faced or will ever face ahead."

"It's all about perspective and keeping our minds stayed on peace is key to getting through anything crazy that life brings."

"I'm hard on myself and def not anywhere close to perfect but pray for me that I will stay strong!"

"Life is tough, but God is more powerful than all that."

(Editor's note: the one below is my personal favorite of the suits that Rachael is modeling.  I've never seen a piece of fabric engineering like that.  A real work of art!)

Yes, she's beautiful no matter what she's wearing.  But Rachael also has an amazingly beautiful heart.  She is a remarkably sweet young lady and her devotion to God has inspired me to seek Him first also as I embark upon my own endeavors.  I am very blessed and honored to call her my cousin.

I've learned something from these photos, something I never understood before.  I have not ever been a real fan of "swimsuit issues" of magazines or television specials or what have you.  Yes, I'm as red-blooded a guy as you can get, but that sort of thing has never been what I go for in terms of lovely attire on a female.  What I mean is: girls in swimsuits have never "turned me on".  But in looking at these photos I've realized something: that the purpose of swimsuit photos is NOT so much the woman and how "appealing" she is, but it really is a showcase of fashion design and creativity.  A beautiful woman in a well-conceived and realized swimsuit is a magnificent work of art, to be enjoyed and appreciated as a single entity.

Well, that's what I took away from it, anyway.

And so concludes the first (only?) The Knight Shift Swimsuit Edition.  Lord only knows if there will be another :-P

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How about something beautiful for a change?

This is my cousin, Rachael:

No, guys: you may not ask me for her phone number.

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From the estate of Robert Knight...

This past day was a bittersweet one.

My sister and Dad's sister and her husband and I set to work on cleaning out the basement of my parents' house.  Just something that has to be done, sooner than later.  The entire house is being cleaned out, top to bottom.  Because in a few months the house that my family has called home for all these decades will be ours no more.

On a more personal note, I will be looking for an apartment soon, depending on where the Lord leads me.  Which, could be literally anywhere.  For the first time in my life I am truly on my own.  I did everything that I could for Mom and Dad.  Now is time at last to see what's out there.  I can go anywhere, do anything.  It's a very thrilling time in my life... and I'm feeling younger than I have felt in years.  Maybe I'll stay around here.  Or relocate to Florida.  Lately the notion of doing some overseas missionary work has crept into mind.  So many places where I could probably be happy.  Maybe at last the little bit of happiness that I've always wanted, even.

This is what Dad, and Mom, would have wanted of me, no matter where it is that I go.  And that could be any number of places.  There are only two absolutes: Tammy the Pup will be accompanying me (that little girl and I are attached at the hip) and there must be real bona-fide broadband Internet.  All this time I've been using a satellite connection and there's not only a monthly data quota, but also HORRIBLE latency.  Wherever the new digs are will certainly be a place where I can do online gaming with "Weird" Ed and all our other wacky pals.  Not to mention getting to use a Roku.

But that's yet to come.  Right now, there is the very difficult business of settling Dad's estate.  Something that I had no idea was so wrought with intricacies and hurdles.

So we spent most of the day cleaning the basement.  Going through everything.  So much of Mom and Dad's belongings and darn nearly all of it triggering memories for me.  I was literally telling Anita and my aunt and uncle the year and day that we got this item and that.  Such as the VCR that Dad bought three weeks before Christmas in 1984.  And the stereo that was a present to Mom in 1979, when I was almost six years old.  And "newer" things like the first satellite receiver, from 1997 when it was still Primestar.

All of those were so shiny and new once upon a time.  Now useless and collecting dust and forgotten about, as will be with most of the possessions around us eventually.

"Life is a vapor".  The materials which we accumulate, much more so.

So much of what we found brought back many, many cherished memories for all of us.  When we came across Dad's cap collection, that hit me hard.  He collected so many caps over the years.  We didn't know what to do except to put it with everything else going into the dumpster we've rented.  And for a while, doing that walloped me hard.  But there are other caps of his that I can hold onto, and so I can still honor his memory that way.

Some of what we've found will be sold at an estate auction later.  The rest is consigned to that dumpster.  And soon that will be the end of that.

Well, there is one other thing worth mentioning.  At long last I am looking at selling off most of my Star Wars collection.  First I have to get it cataloged... which could take weeks.  Then I have to figure out how exactly to sell it: eBay or Craigslist or somesuch.  It all needs to go to good homes.  But I'm going to keep the pieces that have especially great importance to me.  I'm still debating the Slave Leia cardboard stand-up that my sister gave me for Christmas when I was in college: she said that putting it in my apartment would make sure that I woke up to a woman every morning (her words).

It's finally sinking in.  This home will soon no longer be "home".

But I think that things will work out fine.  God has taken care of me this far along.  Maybe He will bring me a little further.

There is one thing from the estate of Robert Knight that I'm not sure how we are going to dispose of.  It's a cache of items which I discovered this afternoon, on a high shelf - untouched for decades - in the basement.  As I was pulling out dust-covered jars and bottles, some dating to the Fifties, my hand touched something round and metal.  And when I saw what it was, I could scarcely believe it.

Look!  Billy Beer!

Dad had told me years ago that he had some of this stuff, but until this past afternoon I had never laid eyes on it.  And next to the Billy Beer cans (which were still filled with beer) there were a few cans of J.R. Ewing's Private Stock, which I assume was from around 1980 and the "Who Shot J.R.?" hype.

Billy Beer.  Somehow, that made all the work and yes, heartbreak that we went through this past day worth it.  It's the kind of thing that Dad would have bought, as a novelty if nothing else.  I don't know what I'm going to do with those cans.  Maybe donate them to some strange museum for this kind of thing?

Hey, Billy Beer can't be all bad, can it?

"MMMMMMM... We elected the wrong Carter."

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Photos from my Florida odyssey

I needed this trip, severely.  Looking in the mirror this morning, I barely recognize the guy who set off eleven days ago on what became over a week in Florida.  It's not the face of the Chris who's spent most of the past several months in grief over the passing of a parent, or in frustration of other things that have tested my perseverance.

Sometimes you need to step away from things and give God some elbow room to work His way on your life.  I have been so focused on writing my book and the hard wall of progress I've been hitting since late February, so trapped by the four walls of my living room and too many times bouts of depression, that those had become the only substantial elements of my life.  And that's not right at all.

For sake of myself, the book, everything... I had to get away from all of that.  And I think that the book project is going to be helped immensely by this.  I consider going to Florida to be the first part of a two-course "treatment" for my problems in writing the book.  The second part is going to be soon, when a friend is going to help me go through some material from over the years.

But this journey really was the thing that my life needed most right now.  I'm very thankful that I got to make this trip.  And I've got some photos to prove that I was there!

Very Beach, Florida's ummmm... beach?

Not a beach bum.  Just a bum.  On a beach.

Lauryn and her boyfriend Matt.  Yes, this is THAT Lauryn that I've posted pictures of
on this blog over the years.  The one that a LOT of guys have asked me about if she's single.
 Sorry to disappoint y'all :-P

Me and "Uncle Bob".
Okay, he's actually my cousin.  How he came to be "Uncle Bob" is one of those stories
that the family is always going to be laughing about :-)

On the streets of West Palm Beach.

Aunt Billie and Bob.
I used to own a pair of plaid blue shorts exactly like that.
They look better on Bob than on me.

City Place in West Palm Beach.
One of the nicest uses of real estate that I've ever seen by any town.
Hard to believe this beautiful promenade of shops and social areas
used to be brothels and crack houses until the city razed it all down.

Me with the car that I'm going to get when my book
becomes a multi-million copy bestseller (yah right!)

The most criminally CREEPY restroom in the history of anything.
This is at an ice cream shop in City Place in West Palm Beach.
The way it's SUPPOSED to work is that a person goes inside, hits a switch
and the window fogs up and becomes completely opaque.
But as Bob and I discovered when one unfortunate young woman was using
this restroom, that was NOT the case.  We saw everything.  Yes, that's Bob
inside the restroom on the other side of the window.  I'm standing where
a table and some chairs are situated.  Of course we notified the staff
but Lord only knows how long this thing had been broken.  WHY was
such a thing made like that anyway?

My cousin Cheryl and I in front of her brand new car:
the "Starship Indigo".
The Batmobile ain't got nuthin' on the technology this baby has.

My second cousin Angela and one of her two children.
Well, one of her two children at the moment: she and her husband are
expecting another soon!

Angela's other kid.
Doing what all boys should do sooner or later: handle a real live snake.

Of course, I had to get in on some of that action too :-)

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A joyful Christmas despite myself

Here I am, the day after Christmas 2014.  And I'm only writing this because a lot of people were praying for me yesterday, that I might get through this holiday.

Grief is hard enough already.  It's especially heartbreaking when it comes so close to the holiday season and you see that empty chair at the table.  It's not something that I haven't experienced already.  Mom passed away three days after Christmas three years ago, and because of that there was already a shadow cast over Christmas and New Year's.  On my 26th birthday we buried my grandmother: something that I'm always reminded of on that day of the year.

This year has been more excruciating than anything I was prepared for.  Because it's so fresh.  Because it's only now sinking in that Dad is gone and is not coming back, no matter how many times I keep expecting him to come through that door every morning, or whenever I see his truck parked at home and find myself thinking that he's inside playing with our dog.

For the several days and maybe a week and a half before Christmas, I was doing pretty well.  Our theatre guild was in the midst of its production of It's A Wonderful Life: The Musical and being around so many people - people who I have worked with before and people who I only now have had the pleasure of making friendships with - was a pick-me-up that I sorely needed more than I'd realized.  And then the show ended this past Sunday and just like that the joy began leaving me.

Let me be more succinct: I knew what was coming and I did not want to have to go through it.  But Christmas was coming, and I had to bear it.  I'm not the only one going through this either: two very dear friends and their family are also going through this holiday season without their mother, a wonderful woman who passed away a month before Dad did.

Tuesday was hell.  Christmas Eve I was assaulted with a lot of thoughts that I cried to God to please take away.  Thoughts about Dad.  Thoughts about being alone, not in the "no friendships" way.  It has been my dream to be a husband and a father for so very long and only now have I been able to reach a state of mind that could let me have that... but I've missed a decade and a half of life because of mental illness and having that happiness seems further away than ever.

It has been a hard thing to be without Dad in other ways too, because he really was supporting me as I wrote my book.  I lost a lot of dependable work this past spring because of an extended bout of severe depression - enough to keep me from writing a word for a major project - and I've been struggling ever since to make up for it.  For now, let's just say that I'm scraping by.  But in a very weird way, I'm thankful for where I am at the moment.  It has re-taught me about the things that do matter most in life.  I am realizing more than before that for all of my circumstance right now, that I am better off than a lot of people who suffer from mental illness.  I may not be where I want to be, but God is providing for me and I'm not having to go hungry.  It is teaching me to rely on God more than I ever have before, and I am thankful for that.

I had no idea that poverty could be so much fun!

(Okay, forget I said that.  It's NOT exactly "poverty".  A tremendous lack of previous resources perhaps, yes... but I'm eating and get to stay warm at night and have a roof over my head: something that too many people in this world can't get to say that they have.)

All of those regrets and more came upon me on Christmas Eve and I desperately wanted to flee them.  I took my medication early that night and tried to go to sleep.  It only lasted until 1 in the morning, at which point I took MORE medication and tried to let it work.  By 8 it was clear that nothing had worked.  Only breakfast at my aunt and uncle's place at 9 brought direly-welcomed respite from the sadness and despair.  I got to have a little Christmas after all.  In fact, it was a Christmas that will go down as one of the most memorable of my life.

Then I came home and took even more medicine and crawled into bed and curled up in the fetal position and waited for the day to end.

I don't know what made me wake up at 4 in the afternoon.  Maybe it was Tammy - my dog - scratching at the door to go out for "relief".  I took her out and when I came back the urge to talk to someone... to anyone... overwhelmed me.

I went on Facebook and asked people to please hold me up in prayer right then, because I was needing it.  And then I spent the next three and a half hours on the phone talking to some especially close friends.

And after that, I came away feeling the most uplifted, encouraged and spiritually renewed than I have been since well before Dad died.

One friend, someone who is as close to me as a sister, told me something that I hadn't thought of: that Dad and Mom were having their first Christmas together in three years.  And that Christmas is a celebration of the birth of Jesus and that now Mom and Dad get to celebrate Christmas in the presence of Christ Himself.  She also told me something else: that Heaven really is closer to us than we realize.  We just can't see it with eyes on this earthly shore.  But our loved ones are there, they really are.  Which is funny, because a second friend shared that same thought with me just as many weeks ago.

During a conversation with another friend, he shared an essay with me, about grief during Christmas time, and a reminder that though we may grief, our grief is not that of this world.  Still another friend reminded me that I am unbelievably blessed with friends and family... and friends who are close as any family can be.  As Clarence Oddbody told George Bailey: a person with friends is far richer than anything that money can provide on this earth.

That's something too.  I had found myself asking God to please show me that my life did have purpose and meaning, that despite how things have gone that I might have a wonderful life.  I had secretly hoped for some direct message from Him.  In the end God didn't send a "second class angel" at all.  He sent people who are so very dear and precious to my heart, and in their own way they each helped to convey the precisely right message that I needed to hear.

Yesterday evening I ended up feeling joy and contentment and peace that I had not thought possible.  I felt cheered-up enough to spent the rest of the night comforted by the peace of God, that surpasses all understanding.

I even felt cheered-up enough to do something that earlier in the day I did not have any interest in at all: watching this year's Doctor Who Christmas special.  I'm glad that I did.  "Last Christmas" was like John Carpenter's The Thing meets Inception meets Miracle on 34th Street with a little dash of Alien.  Solid entertainment courtesy of the Doctor Who franchise.  I needed that too.

I let the rest of the night go on as I let the feeling of Christmas joy wash over me, and linger past midnight.  Then I went to bed, but not before thanking God for bringing me through the grief and letting me have joy on this holiday: joy that I hadn't ever expected and will remember for the rest of my life.

Let me put it this way: this Christmas was a Christmas of miracles for me.  I couldn't have gotten through it without the prayers of a lot of amazing people.  And I could not have come through it without God providing friendships and family who lifted me up exactly as I needed for them to do.  There have been a lot of instances this past month and more that I have seen timing happen in ways that can only be described as perfect.  Some of those involved loss.  This time, it was timing that led to me gaining something.  Something that aroused a greater faith in God than I had been prepared for.  That it came just in time for Christmas was the proverbial cherry on top.

Dad would want me to have been happy this holiday, even without his presence at the breakfast table yesterday morning.  He would want me to go on with my life, and to be happy and to keep finding happiness.  My friends encouraged me to know that there is still plenty of time to have the happiness that I have dreamed of having for so long... and I believe them.  One of these years, in the not too distant future, I hope that will be me sharing photos on Facebook of my children having Christmas morning.  I long to see Christmas through their eyes, just as Dad saw it through those of my sister and I.

This, was a far better Christmas than I was ready to be blessed with.  I don't think that would have been possible without some of the despair and depression that I went through on the way to it.  Maybe that is God's timing too: that I might have a lot of sadness before I could appreciate the joy.

I like to believe so.

This was one of the best Christmases that I've ever had.  I don't know how those in years to come will compare, but this Christmas is forever going to be part of me that I will take with me always.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go.  There is a handsomely-endowed gift card for Barnes & Noble in my possession that is screaming to be put to good use this afternoon :-)

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Taking Dad to the edge of the Jordan

Yesterday was supposed to have be one of the saddest days of my entire life. Yet here I am after Dad's funeral and I cannot help but feel like the most blessed, most overwhelmed with joy, most hopeful man in the world.

Mom and Dad's grave site,
the morning after Dad's funeral

This entire time, I believe Dad would have felt honored by every aspect of it. Anita and I had Dad dressed in his denim bib overalls, with a red plaid flannel workshirt beneath and in his right hand, just as it was often poised in life, his smoking pipe. He had often told Anita that if she had him wearing a tie he would come back to haunt her, LOL. Last night during the visitation we had a table set up displaying some of the many knives that he hand-made over the years. That was my aunt's idea, and it was a good one. A lot of people got to see some really amazing examples of his handiwork.

The service was, well... spot-on perfect. It was a time rife with tales from the life of Robert Rankin Knight. One of the officiating ministers was particularly fond of the time two and a half years ago when Dad (during his and Uncle Frank's epic/crazy cross-country drive to Arizona) was pulled over for speeding in west Texas. We still don't know what he was clocked doing, except that the speed limit was 80 MPH. Somehow Dad got off with a warning after chatting with the patrolman about his knifemaking. That was Dad awright: a peaceful demeanor and cheerful talking can go far.

As I said, the service could not have been better. Everything about it was a true testament to his memory. Something about having two Methodist ministers and a Holiness-turned-Baptist-turned-Presbyterian pastor officiating made it so right, somehow. Dad always said he wanted "Go Rest High On That Mountain" by Vince Gill played at his funeral, and Anita's two friends from her church did an amazing rendition of that song. I'm also glad that before the service, those who came got to see the memorial video that Wilkerson Funeral assembled. So many moments from such a beautifully-lived life.

But it was what came after the service, as we were on the way to the graveside ceremony, that impressed my heart with how much God blessed our lives with Dad, and how He is continuing to bless our lives, and my own especially. Even when I spoke a few words about Dad during the service, somehow I didn't see ALL of the people who were packed inside the church. That came later, when our family was in the limo and watching everyone file out of the church, and then as we met in the fellowship hall following the interment.  Words fail to convey how much my heart jumped to see Melody Hallman Daniel - AKA "Frannie Filks" from our movie Forcery - and her mother.  Denise, I am so very moved that you and Nick could come and join the celebration of Dad's life.  Ed Woody and Chad Austin: my brothers... Dad loved you as if you were his own sons.

To each of you and more who came to the funeral, who came to the visitation, who came to visit with us at the home during the past few days, who kept my family in their prayers thank you for honoring him with your presence: on behalf of my family, you haven no idea how exceedingly grateful we are for taking the time to be with us.

I will confess something: I am scared. I don't know what I'm doing, it seems like. But in the past several days God has been showing me that just as much as He blessed me with the greatest father that anyone could ever have, He has also blessed me... and is STILL blessing me... with the most wonderful friends and family that anyone could have in this world. We are told to lean not on our own understanding, to trust God with all our heart instead. We are also told that we don't have to see the entire road ahead: that His word is a light unto our feet and a lamp unto our path. In these past three weeks and in the last several days, God has demonstrated in too many ways to count that He IS with us. That He is with me, no matter how far I have felt from Him. He has brought me this far. Maybe He will bring me a little further still.

Yesterday, we said farewell to Dad. But this was not goodbye, not really. This was a celebration of his life. Indeed, this was a celebration of what it means to HAVE life, and life abundantly. I am always going to miss Dad. As I sit in this house that is now suddenly my own, only now is his absence beginning to impress itself upon me. But I also know that Dad would want me to keep moving forward, to always be thankful for what God has given me, to "think positive" (as he often told me), and to cherish those who God has placed into my life.

Just as Dad was all of those things and more.

To all of those who have held up my family in their thoughts and prayers during these very trying past 19 days, to those who offered words of encouragement and edification, to those who have consoled our family and helped us in so many ways for the past three days, to those who came to honor the memory of Dad last night and this afternoon, to all of those and many, many more...

Thank you.

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Dad's page on the funeral home site

The thought this morning was that I would post Dad's obituary on my blog after it had been published on the Wilkerson Funeral Home website.  But the staff at Wilkerson has rendered such an astounding service during this time of our need... well, that and the page they did for Dad is so spot-on perfect (and totally in keeping with his character)... that their tribute to Dad sincerely and earnestly does merit a visit to its link.

There will be a video slideshow uploaded later.  Anita and I spent most of yesterday evening and some of this morning combing through hundreds of photos of Dad, finding a select few to represent his very varied and wonderful life.  There were some that I hadn't even seen before, including a couple of he and I when I was only one year old.  Anyway, the video slideshow will be up soon.  And as I did with Mom's a few years ago I'll be posting an embedded YouTube of it here also.

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Could it be?! ANOTHER picture of Lauryn AND Rachael?!?

It has been an unconscionably long time since my blog has seen a photo of either Lauryn or Rachael.  And some of you have been whining and crying for one all along.  Oddly enough they've all been guys.  Whenever one of these two cousins of mine have had their picture on this site, the traffic seems to ramp up considerably.  Funny, that...

Y'all owe Lauryn herself some thanks for this, boys!  Last night her grandmother, my aunt Billie (who also demonstrates how this family is unfairly blessed with lovely ladies) posted a photo of Lauryn and Rachael on Facebook.  I commented (not for the first time) how beautiful they are and a few minutes later Lauryn replied...

"Lol, Did we make the blog? ...It's been awhile ;-)"

Awright, she asked for it!!  And Rachael seems to be having fun with this too (but have a care fellas: she's now ENGAGED!  And her dad is a big, big dude along with being a pastor...)

You wanted it, you've got it!  Here are Rachael and Lauryn: two of the sweetest, most Christian and incredibly beautiful women you are ever likely to meet in this world...

And if y'all are really good, there might be more of them still to come :-)

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Two beautiful things in one photo

So for the past several weeks your friend and humble blogger has been busy.

How busy? I was at ActionFest in Asheville two weeks ago, and I still haven't had time to do a decent write-up about it (including pictures of me with Tom Berenger and a few other folks). Heck, I'm dying to tell y'all about just Solomon Kane (easily the finest and most faithful adaptation of a Robert E. Howard character I've yet beheld).

That's all coming soon, I think, Along with a piece that I've been wrestling with for some time now, and now is the time to finally unload it.

But since a number of nice e-mails have come in asking "where the heck are you Chris?!" and since it's been too gosh-darn long since I've posted any more photos of the lovely ladies in my family, I thought I'd make up for it.

Want to see a new picture of my ravishingly beautiful cousin Rachael?

Of course ya do! So here you go...

Hee-hee-hee!! Well, that is Rachael, whether or not you wanna take my word for it. Along with a beautiful sunrise on the coast of Florida. Two beautiful creations of God, together in one photo.

Now let me get back to work, and maybe there'll be more to come this weekend :-)

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Mom's memorial marker

Today was a milestone, of sorts, in my life. It was eleven weeks ago today that we had Mom's funeral.

The grave marker was put in place today.

And now, for the first time in my life, I know what it is to gaze upon the tombstone of a parent...

The plastic covering is to protect the cement until it fully cures. It's not visible in the photo, but the base of the marker has the names of my sister and I, noting that we are Ruby and Robert's children. In the background you can also see the tombstone belonging to my grandmother and grandfather.

I still haven't broken down and cried like I had expected to long before now. Was it because I was there for her at the end, as she slipped away from us? Did that make it easier to accept her passing?

Or could it be that, my faith is much greater now than it has been ever before in my life? I like to believe that. That I sincerely do know that this marker, it doesn't signify Mom's final resting place at all. Mom isn't here at all. She's somewhere else, in the company of all the family that have gone on before. Waiting for us to join her. Waiting for me someday.

And yet, I will probably find myself at this marker a fair number of times for the rest of my life. I can someday bring my children to it, and tell them all about the grandmother that they will not have had the pleasure of meeting yet.

Once more, I have to thank the fine staff at Wilkerson Funeral Home for their exceptional service to our family, which included the very fast installation of the marker (we only ordered it last week).

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Time to post something beautiful again...

So it's been a few months since my ravishingly beautiful cousin Lauryn got married. She had been The Knight Shift's official pin-up girl for a number of years and she did a magnificent job... and we all wish her well :-)

But don't y'all think that this place could use some more loveliness from my family? 'Cuz I sure can't offer any of my own!

So then, here is The Knight Shift's new pin-up girl: amazingly sweet, talented, beautiful, and one of the most wonderful young ladies in the Lord that I have had the pleasure of knowing: Rachael!

I know what some of y'all of the masculine persuasion are already thinking... and I hate to be the bearer of bad news but Rachael is taken, fellas. Not only that but her father (I was the ringbearer for her parents' wedding years ago) is like eight feet tall or something. So even if you get past me, you'd have your work cut out for you :-P

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We can go no further on this side of Jordan...

The array of flowers that were placed atop Mom's casket. The two pink ones are meant to represent her two children...

The teddy bear that my sister Anita placed inside Mom's casket on the morning of the funeral. I enclosed a letter: the last piece of writing that I ever did for my mother.

The casket at the graveside, immediately following the service...

The final resting place of Mom's earthly body, after the grave had been filled...

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Southern hospitality

A representative sample of all the food that friends and family brought to our house last week following Mom's death. I swear, we had enough fried chicken alone to run the Colonel out of business!

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