How do I celebrate the best father ever?

Things could have turned out so differently for me. I was born in 1944 toward the end of WWII. In San Antonio. But I never knew my father. Actually, I never knew my mother, either. Biological, that is. I was given up for adoption at birth.

At that same time, Omer and Lois Sperry, having grown up in Nebraska, had made their way to a little town in West Texas called Alpine. My dad had taken the job of setting up the Biology Department at a new state teachers’ college called Sul Ross. That was around the beginning of the Great Depression, and they had remained there for more than a decade – trying to have children but unable.

They applied for adoption and finally in 1944 the phone rang. They heard their son had been born. That was when our paths intersected. I was six weeks old before they could accumulate enough wartime ration coupons to make the trip to pick me up, as my mom told the story.

We moved to College Station when I was 2. My dad had accepted the position at A&M to co-found the Range and Forestry Department. I grew up around university people and their children while A&M was still all male and military and while College Station’s population was still 4 digits in size. My, how those times have changed.

My dad was my mentor. He was 42 when I was adopted. A childhood accident kept him from throwing a baseball, but he could hit with the best of them. I’d wait by the back door for him to come home from the classroom at 5:15 to hit balls to me out in the park.

He helped me with my first garden. Fact was, I know he did all the hard work, but those were my beans when I went running inside with my first harvest. We painted the house, and we built my greenhouse. He took me to Russell Daylily Gardens in Spring and the already famous Cornelius Nursery in Houston. He took me to meet noted native plant man Lynn Lowery at his nursery while he, too, was still in Houston.

We traveled together to Dad’s research work on plants poisonous to Texas livestock in Kerrville, Cuero, Sterling City, Paisano Pass, Valentine, Pecos/Mentone, Sonora, Big Spring, Sierra Blanca, Leakey, Uvalde, Johnson City – oh, I can’t remember them all. It couldn’t have been better if he’d taken us on ocean cruises. I loved those times with my dad.

I wasn’t the smartest kid in my class, but I worked as hard as I could to achieve. I strove to be a class leader and was able to accomplish a lot. It took me years to realize it, but those were transplanted genes I soaked up from my dad.

When I went back to Alpine on my 60th birthday to speak in the lecture hall where my dad had taught decades before, people came out of the woodwork with stories about him. He had been elected dean of students by the student body at Sul Ross all but one of his years there. He was truly beloved.

Even before that, he’d been a leader in his high school and undergraduate college days at a little school in southeastern Nebraska. A cheerleader – who would have guessed it! President of the Thespian Society. I never knew. He never spoke of it.

Nor did he ever say much in praise of my work and accomplishments. But he kept on encouraging me. I don’t recall his ever saying specifically, “I love you.” But (I’m crying as I write this) I knew. I really knew.

When I was probably 10, we drove up from College Station to Garland to see my mom’s sister and her husband. There was no LBJ Freeway yet – just that new thing called “Loop 12, Buckner Blvd.” circling the southeast side of Dallas. As we drove north, we passed by the Buckner Children’s Home. As young Neil looked out the window it felt like I’d been punched in the heart. I saw those buildings. All I could think about for the next many days was how lucky I was to have Omer Sperry as my dad.

College…
My dad’s office in the Plant Sciences building at A&M was one floor beneath the office of my major professor in Floriculture. I told dad how Prof. D. never spoke to me on the street or in the halls – that he was as cold as ice. One day Dad saw the chill in the Plant Sciences lobby. I didn’t realize he was there. He was 20 paces down the hall. That evening he said, “I saw what happened this afternoon. It’s time we found you another school.” And that’s how I ended up at Ohio State.

After I finished my second degree at Ohio State, Lynn and I found ourselves teaching in northern Ohio. I loved that work. I guess I learned that passion for the classroom, too, from my dad.

In fact, great teachers seem never to be forgotten. Hardly a month goes by even now but what a former student or offspring seeks me out to tell me how much my dad had meant. His legacy lives on.

Times changed…
In 1970 Dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer. I took the job as Dallas County Extension Horticulturist so I could be closer to Mom and Dad. I began that job in September. They moved to Carrollton to be closer to us and, by January, our new son Brian was born. Soon thereafter we had Todd. Dad got to play with both of them, but sadly, he never met Erin.

Dad had excellent medical care even back then, but by early 1975 his health had deteriorated. He was at the old location of the Richardson Medical Center on Spring Valley. I put in my long days at the TAMU Center on Coit Road, then I spent evenings at his bedside until midnight. Those were long, quiet hours. Toward the end Dad didn’t speak, but I told him about our family (two boys and their wonderful mom, my wife Lynn. Dad adored her.).

Then one night, March 4, the nurses told me that they had detected changes in his numbers and that he probably wouldn’t make it through the night. Shortly after midnight everything was shutting down. I remember telling him quietly over and over, “I love you, Dad,” and “Thanks for being my dad.” I kept repeating those words softly. I knew somehow he could hear me.

What a great life he and Mom gave me. I’m really glad Omer and Lois Sperry answered that phone call back in May 1944 on Stockton Street in Alpine. I couldn’t have had a better father. I’ve tried to instill that in our boys Brian and Todd, and now, as Lynn and I age, I’m seeing the best in my dad showing up in both of them. I wish Dad could be here, if only for a day, to get to know all of our family. But at least I know he can see us.

Thanks, Dad, for all that you’ve meant to me. I’ve never forgotten.

I love you.

Neil