From "A 1990 Father's Day Tribute to My Daddy" by Beverly McNease Boudar 
June 17, 1990

... Daddy [Junnie McNease] was a mechanic.   He could take a car (or any other vehicle) apart and put it back together-- and have it working better than when he started.

He worked many long, exhausting hours to provide for his family -- a wife, daughter, and two sons.  He would go to work at the Port Terminal Railroad Association, where he began his employment on August 13, 1950, work an eight-hour shift, than come home for eight hours, be called back out, work two eight-hour shifts back to back, come home for eight hours, be called back, and work three eight-hours shifts back to back.   He began working there as a switchman, and ended this railroad career as a yardmaster on July 25, 1986, when he retired after putting in right at thirty-six years of faithful and loyal service.

Although we lived in the middle of the thriving metropolis of Houston, Texas, he did not forget his days of growing up in the country.  He believed in raising your own food, and had a garden year round.  He could grow most anything you could name that could be eaten.

We also had a chicken yard next to the garden, where Daddy raised enough chickens to supply our family with eggs and with Sunday chicken dinners.  These chickens also kept us from wasting any part of the vegetables from the garden, as peelings (as well as egg shells) were given to them to eat and recycle.  Daddy did not believe in wasting anything!

He always planned the most detailed vacations for our family.  I believe we went on a vacation most every summer that I can remember while I was living at home- that is, until I started working and thought I was too old to go with my family.  At the time, I did not appreciate these vacations as much as I should have.  However, now that I have three sons, and realize how much vacations (and children) cost, I am amazed at the many things were able to do and see on these summer trips--simply because Daddy and Mama had planned ahead and saved up for them for us.  As I was growing up, I believe that he took us to at least two-thirds of the states in the United States, as well as into Mexico and Canada.  The last vacation I went with my family, when I was sixteen years of age, it seems like he took us to every national park and forest there is in the United States-- at least it seemed like it on that thirty day trip, with five people in a pick-up truck with a home-made camper on the back (which, incidentally, Daddy built), pulling a little week-end camper trailer!

Daddy was the type of man who could do most anything with his hands.  He built a huge garage in our backyard, as well as remodeling our home--turning a garage into a bedroom and bath for his teen-age daughter (me) when she got too old to share a room with her younger brother, and also enlarging our kitchen and installing a built-in oven and range-top.  This included plumbing and electrical wiring work.

My father was an extremely moral person.  He would never have thought of "running around" on my mother.  Indeed, my mother and daddy were often with friends of the opposite sex, alone, with never a thought from anyone who knew them that anything out of line would be dreamed of.

Daddy did not believe in divorce.  I did not realize as I was growing up that this teaching would have such an impact on my own thinking;  but now I know it did, and that it has been a big factor in my husband's and my twenty-one wonderful years of marriage.

He served proudly in the armed forces of our United States of America, defending the freedoms which we as Americans still have to this very day.

Daddy was a Master Mason.  He joined the Masonic Lodge on October 11, 1955-- for almost thirty-five years a member this benevolent order.  Over the years he has taught many, many men their "secret work" as they were seeking membership in this fraternal organization.  He was elevated to the chief of his lodge, that of Worshipful Master.

He was also a member of the Order of the Eastern Star, and  "passed through the chairs" to become the highest officer a Master Mason could be in that organization--that of "Worthy Patron".  (This he did three times.)

Daddy was a great hunter.  He enjoyed the sport immensely.  His specialty was squirrel and deer hunting.  For several years, it seemed that the was practically the only one who "got anything"--taking this own quota and going ahead and getting his friend's quota for them if they were unable to get anything on that hunting trip themselves.  One thing about Daddy's hunting -- although I could never stand the idea of someone killing a poor, innocent animal, Daddy believed that God put them here for food-- and he NEVER wasted any meat that he took in hunting.  WE always had deer steak, deer roast, deer sausage, etc., etc., etc.

Daddy was always known for his generosity to his friends, of whom he had many.  We had a modest lake house when I was a teenager, and we never lacked for friends when Daddy and Mama had a bar-be-que.  They never let anyone bring anything.  When someone asked what they could bring, the answer was always the same: "Just yourselves!"

Some people have a natural gift for visiting and just being there when people are sick and need a friend.  I have always jokingly said that , "If an acquaintances' former neighbor's sixth cousin's ex-wife's friends' neighbor got sick and had surgery, and Daddy and Mama found out about it, they would be there sitting up all night at the hospital with them."  Visiting just seemed to be second nature to Daddy.  People appreciate that.  They don't forget it.

Visiting relatives on a regular basis was just a natural thing we did over the years.  Daddy was always ready on the spur of the moment to "Let's go see so-and-so."

If anyone needed help fixing anything--from a broken car to a broken pipe, Daddy would be there to help get the repairs done. . . at no charge, of course.

He was always there for his parents, who are now in their eighties.  They couldn't have asked for a more caring son.

Daddy encouraged me to learn to cook by actually eating the things I attempted to prepare.  (Since I felt I could never compete with my mother, who was the world's best cook, I never really had an interest in the culinary arts.)  Once, when I was taking home economics in the ninth grade, I baked a two-layer "chocolate cake" from a recipe our teacher had handed out to the class.  To Mama's consternation, I refused to add any coca to it because the recipe did not have it listed (the teacher had accidentally left it out when she typed the recipe), and I also forgot to put in the baking powder.  Needless to say, the two layers, with icing, were only about one inch thick, total--and the cake was not very "chocolaty."  Mama refused to taste it, but Daddy ate a little piece.  His comment was, "It's pretty good, Hon, but next time, don't forget to put in the baking powder."

Although I felt that Daddy was overly strict with us, I never remember him setting a curfew for me to be home by a certain time after a date or going somewhere with my friends.  He and Mama just said to "come home when it's over."  And, they trusted us to do it.  I didn't always do everything I should have (what kid does?)  But this I do know:  because I thought Daddy was so "overbearing and mean," I never thought doing anything that was really "bad," because I would have to answer to Daddy for it.

Having children of my own now that are beginning to get into the teenage years, I can see that Daddy did the best he knew how to teach us right from wrong, and to see that we did what was right.  None of us ever went to prison or robbed a bank or killed anyone or did drugs.  Was this because Daddy was "mean"?!  Now, I can truly say, "Thank You, Lord, that he was!"

A few years back, Daddy began to get really active in his church, and began to serve the Lord faithfully.  He developed many Christian friends who really could see his many good points, and loved him for them.

His memory was fantastic: he could remember almost everyone he had ever know--indeed, he could tell you their whole name, who their parents were, their birthdays, where their parents were from , what kind of work they and their parents did, their children's names, where all they had lived, etc.,etc.,etc.

Speaking of friends, Daddy always had a multitude of them around at all times.  As a matter of fact, just last month, almost three hundred of them showed up when we had a special tribute to my father and their friend.

You see, about six or eight months ago, my Daddy was diagnosed as having amyotrophic lateral sclerosis--most people know it as "Lou Gehrig's Disease."  This is a mean, devastating illness which shows no mercy to those it attacks.  There is no know cause, neither is there any treatment nor cure.  A.L.S has attacked MY DADDY!  Why?  We don't have any answers.  Only the Lord knows...and the Lord works all things together for good to them who love Him (Romans 8:28).  We just have to trust in Him Who knows all things.

But this I do know:  even though Daddy may not now be able to do many of the things he once did... repair a car or a broken pipe, go to work at the railroad, raise a garden, wire electricity to a new room, build a garage, serve in the United States Army, and so on... he is still my Daddy.  And, he is still able to continue with the important thins:  he can continue to teach his children and grand children the importance of not wasting what God has given us: he can go along with us on vacations and enjoy the sights; he can pass on to this grandchildren the value of sticking with your mate "through thick and thin--in sickness and in health"; he is able still to pass on to us the moral values that are God's will for our lives; he can impart patriotism for this great nation of ours; he is still able to be involved in this church; he can still remember; he can still eat my cooking--even if it's not as good as Mama's (Ha); and, most of all, he can still visit with and enjoy being with friends who love and care about him.

So, as you can see, my father is mar than just "Junnie Fay McNease, who was born on March 26, 1926, and got married on April 8, 1944."  He's a real, live, breathing personality--and he's my daddy.