Some people come into your life so early that you cannot remember the first time you saw them. They were just always there, standing somewhere in the background of your childhood, steady as an old fence post and strong as the ground under your feet.
That was him.
To me, he was perfect.
Not perfect in the way the world talks about perfect. He had his ways, like all men do. He probably had things he wished he had done differently. But through the eyes of a child, and even through the eyes of a grown man looking back, he was about as close as anybody could get.
He served 22 years in the military, 20 years in the Army and 2 years in the Navy, before he retired. I think that life gave him a certain kind of strength. He carried himself with discipline, respect, and quiet confidence. He did not have to say much to make a point. You just knew he meant what he said.
He taught me things before I even knew I was being taught.
He taught me how to work. Not by sitting me down and giving me a speech, but by letting me watch him get up, put one foot in front of the other, and do what needed doing. He taught me that a job was not finished just because you were tired. He taught me that a man’s word ought to mean something.
He taught me how to fish and hunt. He taught me how to be patient, how to be quiet, how to watch and listen, and how to appreciate the world around me. A boy learns more than fishing and hunting in those moments. He learns how to think, how to wait, how to respect nature, and how to enjoy the simple things life gives you.
He taught me right from wrong. Not just by telling me, but by living it. There were things I did not fully understand when I was young, but as I got older, I began to see the wisdom in what he had been teaching me all along. He was wise beyond his years, and somehow he seemed to have all the answers to the questions in life.
When I was a boy, I thought he knew everything. If something was broken, he could fix it. If I had a question, he usually had an answer. If I was unsure of myself, just knowing he was nearby made the world feel a little safer.
He gave me the best childhood a human could ask for. And that is not something I say lightly. I had love, guidance, protection, lessons, laughter, and memories that have stayed with me my whole life. A child does not always know how blessed he is while he is living it, but a grown man looking back sure does.
Childhood has a way of making certain people larger than life. Back then, I did not understand age. I did not understand time. I did not understand that the people who seemed so strong could ever grow old. I just thought he would always be there.
But time moves along whether we are ready for it or not.
The hands that once taught me became older. The voice that once gave advice grew softer. The man who had always seemed so strong began to carry the years on him. Still, when I looked at him, I could see the same man I had always known.
I could still see the man who shaped me.
A lot of what I know about life came from him. A lot of what I believe about right and wrong came from him. A lot of the man I became started with the boy who was watching him.
And that is the thing about someone like that. They do not really leave you. Their voice stays in your mind. Their lessons show up in the way you work, the way you treat people, and the way you remember where you came from.
On may 26 2026, he left this world at the age of 90.
And even though my heart is heavy, I know I was blessed. Blessed to have known him. Blessed to have learned from him. Blessed to have been loved by him.
For most of this story, I have just called him “he.”
But to me, he had the greatest name a man could ever have.
He was my dad.
And he was a perfect dad.
Howard “Muggins” Hurt
9-12-35 to 5-26-2026
