Rabbit Hunting With My Dad

Today I am gonna tell you a little about my dad. Now as you remember, I refer to my stepfather as dad and my real father as daddy. I am going to tell you about Bob, my stepdad and the wonderful man he was. I tell people he was in "oil", but I dont think that is the actual work he was involved in. So I had to enlist some input from my brothers on this one.
One says he was a piping and instrumentation superintendant for a number of large industrial construction companies. That he was in charge of installing all the pipe and instrumentation for refinery, gas plant and chemical plant projects.
Another one says he was a multi-crafted construction hand who got his start during the refinery construction boom of the 40’s & 50’s. He went on to become a craft foreman in both piping and instrumentation disciplines, then general foreman, then all the way to superintendant over whole refinery construction projects. He worked from as far north and west as Utah, and as far south as Brownsville, Texas, and as far east as New Orleans. To not have been any larger than he was in stature, his reputation and word were huge on a job site. He inspired confidence, respect and hard work. His construction nickname was Crackerass because someone told him once that “his butt wasn’t any bigger than a two-wafer cracker.” He loved practical jokes, only missed two days work in all the years I was growing up, was never late, and dreaded dealing with welders. He was often heard to say that he’d rather have a sister in a cat house than a son who was a welder...and he ended up having a house full of welder sons! LOL
He loved to barbeque and was good at it. He loved to fish, but wasn’t good at it. He carried a.45 Long Colt in his right boot and wasn’t afraid to wield it if needed. He was a party animal in the boom days, out dancing every night of the weekend, but quieted down in his 40’s. He apparently was a terrific dancer because once his own wife was exhausted and needed a break, the other women in the joint would line up to dance with him until his own wife caught her breath and was ready to go again herself. To be so small, he could hold his liquor better than any man I’ve ever known, and often said you weren’t an alcoholic unless you had your first drink before noon.
NOW those being the words of my dear brothers I will tell you some of what I remember of him. He was soft spoken for the most part and though I am sure he had bouts of anger from time to time, I do not ever remember him being ugly or aggressive with it. He would deal with us unruly children by taking us "rabbit hunting".. SO when he said, "Come on, we are going for a ride to hunt some rabbits", you knew you were really getting some sort of lesson from him. No matter what we did to get ourselves in the "rabbit hunt" situation, he never belittled or scolded us for it. He would let us know we were wrong by giving us an example or telling us a story in relation to the matter at hand. Sometimes it seemed that it would be so much easier just to get a good lickin, instead of listening to the lesson he was teaching. He always made his point though, and by the time the ride was over, you had dealt with the issue, resolved it with him, and were almost always laughing and having fun with him.
One day he asked me to go for a ride and it wasnt a "rabbit hunting" ride. I was sort of baffled, but thought "YEAH some one on one with dad. No boys along, woohooo. Sure I would go." But much to my surprise, this ride was one I will never forget. That was the day dad told me that he wanted to adopt me and my brother Garry. I was filled with all sorts of different emotions ranging from ecstaty to sadness. I was tickled pink that he wanted us to be HIS kids. I was overcome with happiness that I was gonna be a Warren too. BUT just as quick, that feeling turned to the deepest sadness I had ever felt, thinking about how my DADDY would feel. I thought he would be betrayed if we took, what seemed to me at the time, the only thing we had left of him away, his last name. Truth was that I HATED my last name. HICKS!! Oh yeah, I was called hickabilly, hickey, hick from the sticks, you name it I was called it. LOL But as much as I hated it, I could not bring myself to change that awful name. I told dad, that as much as I loved him and wanted to be a Warren, I felt the obligation to my daddy, to keep his name. So my dad said he understood and respected me for thinking of my daddy's feeling and not just mine. I sometimes kicked myself in the arse for not doing it, but I think perhaps it was for the best.
So after that, anytime dad wanted to go for a "rabbit hunt", I wasnt sure if I was in trouble or if he was gonna give me some more food for thought. But I always climbed up in that truck and was happy to be going with him, no matter what the consequences. I have always felt blessed to have had such a wonderful man like him. He was the best dad anyone could ever want. I miss him so much and wish my own children could have gone on some "rabbit hunts" with him. He would surely have taught them a lesson.