I went to Pappy’s Memorial Service this morning. He died early this week at age 112. Somebody took him to The Big City and he was put into the crematorium yesterday afternoon.
You may have heard of him. He’s been on TV a lot; gets lots of newspaper articles and that kind of thing because of his age.
They always ask—birthday after birthday—“What’s the secret to your long life?” And he always answer—birthday after birthday:"Well, when I was just a youngster, my grandpappy told me—told all of us kids—if we’s to want to live a long and healthy life to sprinkle a pinch of gunpowder on our dinner. Also said it wouldn’t hurt none to have a little on our chewin’ tabaccer, neither. Well, that’s what I done since I was about the size of that gate post over there. Well, now look at me. And look at my grandpappy: he died when he was 101.”
I never saw him put gunpowder on anything he ate, but I did see him spit plenty of “chewin’ tabaccer” juice. Pappy was a good man; a kind and helpful man. Everybody liked him. He left behind 9 children, 28 grandchildren, 19 great-grandchildren, one great-great granddaughter and a 42 foot hole where the crematorium used to be.