He turned himself in after Pearl Harbor, fought in the liberation of the Philippines from Japanese imperialism (Silver Star, two Bronze Stars, injuries that decades later left him 100% disabled) and acquired a new respect for people of color as he fought alongside them. He married Sybil Blondell "Butch" Scarbrough while still in the hospital in Athens, GA recovering. They were the original bikers: post-war kids (the guys mostly vets) on Harleys, roaming around the country with their friends. Dad floundered around a bit, eventually became a newspaperman (reporter, photographer, outdoors writer) on a string of Southern dailies (he was editor for a while of the DAILY CORINTHIAN in Corinth, MS.).
They raised four of us kids, but his heart was weakened (not that the cigarettes and whiskey helped). His first or second heart attack got him fired (so they wouldn't have to pay health insurance); his third or fourth killed him. He was realistic enough to have prepared all of us for the event, but you never think it's gonna happen.
He was a flawed man (ain't we all?) and a harsh disciplinarian; but I never doubted and don't doubt his love for us all. Love you, Daddy! I only wish you could have met Kelly and the rest of your grandkids.