Happy birthday, dad!

Joseph Jack McCullough was born May 1, 1927 in San Antonio Texas. He was born 20 days before Charles Lindbergh made the first solo trip across the Atlantic Ocean and 5 months before the release of “The Jazz Singer, ” the first feature-length Hollywood “talkie” film in which spoken dialogue was used as part of the dramatic action. The world has changed a lot since then.

“Dad got to Guam, but not all of the Japanese soldiers hiding out on the island knew about or believed the surrender.”

Dad has had a blessed life. He married my mother, Dorothy Francis Granberry, on July 4, 1945. A few days later he took a train to San Diego and from there boarded a ship to go to Guam as a Navy Seabee. He says that the ship was made out of cardboard but he’s exaggerating a bit — it was actually a restored World War I vessel fitted out to carry troops. Comfort was definitely not a priority for troop ships though.

Off the coast of Hawaii, a Japanese sub was spotted and the ship had to turn off all lights and engines and maintain silence for several days to avoid being spotted. They finally moved on, and a few days later Hiroshima and Nagasaki were bombed and the Japanese surrendered. Dad got to Guam, but not all of the Japanese soldiers hiding out on the island knew about or believed the surrender. The Japanese continued to take pot shots at the camp and even managed to blow up an ammunition demo — while dad was on the latrine. It scared the poop out of him but luckily he was in the right place for that.

After spending a year on Guam, he received an honorable discharge and returned to San Antonio to rejoin my mom. He held a variety of jobs and went to college at Texas A&M, graduating in 1958. They moved around a bit with his jobs for several years. I was born April 24, 1960 in Houston and my brother, Mark, was born March 2, 1962 in San Antonio. In 1964, we moved to the Dallas area and have been here — in the same house — ever since.

ALWAYS THERE FOR US
“Dad was always there for us, whether we succeeded or failed, and you can’t ask for a better father than that.”

Enough about the biography lesson. The great thing about dad’s life is not what he has done, but rather the kind of man that he is. He’s quiet but has a great sense of humor. He always participated in activities with Mark and me while we were growing up. When I was in Cub Scouts, he was Akila, which meant that he got to dress up in an Indian outfit and pass out badges. When I was in Boy Scouts, he almost always joined us on the camping trips, whether we had freezing rain or the abominable Texas heat.

Dad was always there for my musical activities and my brother’s athletic activities while we were growing up. Dad was always there for us, whether we succeeded or failed, and you can’t ask for a better father than that.

Dad taught Mark and me how to be men. Real men, not just males. He is kind and brave. He once injured himself while pulling a woman who was pinned beneath her wrecked car. His company stationed him at the HemisFair in San Antonio in 1968 and I can still remember seeing him on the television news coverage rescuing injured people after a monorail derailed.

Dad also taught us love — how to love God, one’s wife, children, and even strangers. Many people have trouble understanding God the Father because their earthly fathers deserted them, were addicted to alcohol or drugs, or were cruel or emotionally distant. I’ve been blessed never to have that problem because I can see how good God the Father is by watching my earthly father.

He’s lived a full and interesting life. After mom and dad retired, they were fortunate enough to be able to travel. They’ve been north of the Arctic circle in Point Barrow, have seen Antarctica from a ship, sailed the Mediterranean, and visited places like Egypt, Greece, Israel, Turkey, several countries in central and South America as well as most of Europe.

Thank you for being such a wonderful father — you truly are a hero to Mark and me. We love you very much and wish you a happy 79th birthday!