Hugh Donald Wetzel

It was a year ago that we lost my father. I miss him so much. I miss talking to him. I miss his advice. I miss making him laugh.

I'm over the sad times. I can now remember the good times, the loving care of a father. The lessons taught. I hope he is looking down and please in what he sees.

I spoke at his funeral. It was one of the toughest things I've ever done, but I'm very proud I had the opportunity to do it. Here's what I said:

My father used to be a mystery to me. I think any boy trying to come to grips with becoming a husband and father has questioned his dad a time or two. My father was a lucky man. He married his high school sweetheart and had three loving children. I've been married just over five years to a woman of whom I don't deserve. We had a beautiful baby girl just over a year ago. I'm proud to report that she is her daddy's girl. When I look at my father from where I stand today he really isn't that much of a mystery any more.

He taught me:

How to keep my eye on the ball and follow through...in sports and life.

How to treat a lady. (Holding doors is a lost art)

He taught me how to loose gracefully.

He taught me how to tie a tie.

He taught me how to cheer for a team. (I remember at the Kentucky Wesleyan games, Dad had two sets of seats. One set on the second row for mom and the girls and one set court side for him and I. He used to rub his hands together before he yelled at a ref or a USI player. I used to wonder why he did that. Now I find myself doing it at almost every game I go to.)

He taught me to marry up. (You'll never be sorry.)

He taught me to not start fights, finish them.

He taught me to never be afraid to ask out the best looking girl in the room. (You'd be surprised how often it works.)

He taught me that truly being fair means sometimes serving yourself last.

He taught me that pushing the elevator button several times won't make it come any faster.

He taught me to appreciate giving.

He taught me how to shake someones hand.

He taught me to stand up for the little guy.

He taught me that it was better to be overdress than under. (This was a way of life for him. Who else do you know that sits around the house in a cashmere sweater, a monogrammed button down shirt and creased khaki's?)

He taught me that it was better to offer no excuse than a bad one.

He taught me how to be a gentleman.

So many of lessons are apart of me today. I'd like to think that the lessons he passed down have become the best part of me. Thank you Daddy.