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On November 18, 2011 my brother Robert "Bob" Eugene McCord succumbed to congestive heart failure, end stage liver disease, kidney failure and spleen failure at his home in Dallas, Texas. Bob was 62. Part of his ashes were interred at the Dallas Fort Worth National Cemetery in a U.S. Air Force ceremony, and the remainder of his ashes will be scattered on the Isle of Skye, Scotland, from where our family originated. Bob is survived by his first wife Debbie, who now lives in Pflugerville, Texas, his second wife Kathy, who lives in Dallas, Texas, daughters Heather McCord and Holly McCord of Austin, Texas, son Arthur Ross McCord III of Dallas, Texas, brothers Marc W. McCord of Dallas, Texas and William "Bill" Ervin McCord of Spicewood, Texas, sisters Mary Catherine Weaver of Pottsboro, Texas and Karen Ruth Clark of Richardson, Texas, along with many nieces, nephews, cousins, aunts, uncles and in-laws. Monday, March 8, 1999, was a sad day for our family as Dora Pierce McCord Jordan, my grandmother and my father's mother, passed away from respiratory failure at the age of 96, in Terrell, Texas. Born February 14, 1903 (St. Valentine's Day) in Cove, Arkansas, she was a direct descendant of the family of U.S. Grant, former Yankee General and U.S. President as well as the descendant of Native American blood. Her grandmothers were full blood Eastern Band Cherokee and half blood Lipan Apache. My grandmother outlived four of her eight sons and three grandchildren and two great grandchildren, and is survived by four sons, one daughter and many grandchildren and great grandchildren. Everyone who knew her knows the earth lost one beautiful lady who was a joy to be around. We will miss you, Granny, and our hopes are that your soul is at rest with those who have gone before you. We bid you a tearful goodbye, but you will never be forgotten. At the outbreak of World War II, he was in the 112th Cavalry, riding horeseback patrols along the Texas-Mexico border until his unit was mobilized and sent to Europe to fight Hitler and Mussolini, then on to the Pacific Theater to fight Japan. He was a highly decorated soldier who earned a Silver Star, two Bronze Stars, and three Purple Hearts, none of which he ever wore. As a boy, he told me that those medals and 5 cents would buy a cup of coffee anywhere coffee was sold for 5 cents a cup. He did it out of love of family and love of and duty to country.
After the war, dad married Sudie Catherine Frye of Greenville, Texas, then moved to Dallas where they began raising a family. The first born son, Arthur Ross McCord, Jr., died less than 24 hours after birth from complications of badly-formed lungs and a premature birth. I was the second son, born January 29, 1948, followed by brothers Bob (August 17, 1949) and Bill (September 13, 1950) then sisters Mary (July 27, 1952) and Karen (January 19, 1954). At the time we were poor, but we never knew it because our dad worked hard to put food on our table, clothing on our backs and a roof over our heads, giving us a loving home that was safe and secure from the world outside.
Dad loved his family and his friends, and was often playing practical jokes on us all. If he did not joke around with someone then everybody knew it was because he did not like them. It was always a good sign when he joked around, because we knew he cared. Even though life was hard he made sure we did not know just how hard it was. Much of his time was spent working construction jobs where he would leave home on Sunday afternoon and return every Friday evening to spend the weekends with our family, unlike the life he had personally known as a child.
He was a Southern Baptist who held membership in the Masonic Lodge, the Scottish Rite and the Order of the Eastern Star. Dad was responsible for bringing three of his brothers into the Masonic Order, and with mother was actively involved in O.E.S. As he approached retirement he spent a lot of time doing the one thing he liked most to do whenever he could - fishing. He and mother bought a trailer house and some property on Cedar Creek Lake and he would go out in his boat and fish on weekends.
On Saturday, August 22, 1981, I got the call that dad had died. He was just 61, and suffered a massive heart attack while mowing the backyard at his home in Dallas. Mother had been gone for less than an hour, and when she returned she found him lying dead where he had been mowing. It was a shock to us because dad never went to doctors, was never sick, and there was no expectation of his early demise. Arterial Sclerosis took him from us on that fateful day, and mother followed him 14 1/2 years later.
They are buried in Grove Hill Cemetary in Dallas, adjacent to Junior and Sarah Lynn, the stillborn baby of Karen and her husband, Richard Clark. Dad never got to see Scotland, but he was proud of his Scottish, Cherokee and Apache heritage. His characteristics were much more the Native American traits, but he bore a stubborn streak that was pure Scottish. He was accorded a full Masonic funeral in recognition of his many years of service and dedication to the Masonic Order and the Scottish Rite. Someday soon I will see him again!
In our family love was something that was felt, but except for mother, was seldom expressed outwardly. Since my teenage years, and perhaps before, I do not remember telling him that I loved him, nor do I remember him telling me that he loved me. But, I never doubted it for an instant. You see, dad joked with me, and in his so doing I knew that he loved me, because he never joked with anyone he did not love and respect! I love you, dad! Thank you for my heritage. It is everything to me! Catherine, as she was known to friends and family, was born on March 5, 1921, in Greenville, Texas. Our first family ties to Austin were born when she met my dad there shortly after he returned from serving in World War II. Upon marrying, they moved to Dallas, where my mother lived until her death on January 10, 1996, at the age of 74. She was a stay-at-home mom until we had all graduated from high school, though she did try her hand in real estate for a short period before I graduated in 1966. After all of us were grown she and dad became much more socially active. Dad was a 32nd Degree Mason (Scottish Rite) and both of them were members of Eastern Star, in which they found frequent friendship and social activities to keep them busy later in life. Mother was a Southern Baptist and taught Sunday School for most of her adult life. Her church membership was very important to her, and she exemplified the teachings in which she believed. She had a 40+ year history of pectoral angina that never seemed to bother her until the last few years of her life when she suffered a series of mild to moderate strokes preceeding a series of heart attacks leading to the last one that took her life. I was with her when she died, and it is a memory that will linger as long as I breathe. There is not a day that passes in which I do not think of my parents and thank them for the efforts they made on behalf of our family. Last updated December 10, 2011 |