Boots. Not cowboy boots. Just boots .Growing up, I did not know there were there boot styles outside of the cowboy kind. When the UPS man delivered the big box from Sheplers, I knew it had Daddy’s boots inside. Okay sometimes it was a black Stetson or maybe a plaid button up shirt with snaps. Daddy only wears shirts that snap. No buttons allowed!  Boots, boots…back to the boots. Without opening the box, I could describe the boots to the T, always the same brand, always the same style. Like his choice of boots, my Daddy is consistent. He gets up with the chickens every morning, literally since he is a large scale chicken farmer. There are no weekends for him. Farming doesn’t permit sleeping in. He works steadily, and loves consistently. Each morning after working the chickens, (chicken farmer slang for picking up the dead ones, adjusting curtains, foggers, feeders and checking and re-checking everything) he feeds his barn cats and then his cows. What’s a farm without barn cats and cows right?  My girls love feeding the cats with Poppa and they look forward to this time with him. They depend on him for hugs and compassion when in trouble with Momma.  They look forward to “helping” him and they know their help will be greatly appreciated. They bank on their Poppa to randomly give them a dollar to put in their pockets. (No pun intended).  His boots are always put to good use. They are used to help feed America.  God has used my Dad to develop good character in his children and grandchildren. Although Daddy does not realize it; God uses him as a living historian and many of the stories he has shared will be used on this blog.