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!