Not football but Clay's "Father’s treasure..."

story today is very poignant (in a good way) for all of us ‘older’ guys who’s Dad’s have been gone way too long. Would have liked to have talked Hogs football with him many times over the past 27 years. Good work Clay -

Clay’s best work is when he’s writing about someone he loves. For those of us that grew up reading OH every morning this brings back great memories.

Really good article.

Bayou, had the same thoughts. Would love to have one more talk with Dad but not going to happen.

I meant to put the link up earlier, but I’ve got so many texts and emails that I’ve been busy. My wife asked me to remove the phone from the bedroom at 6 a.m. this morning when the texts began. She asked me what was going on before going back to sleep. I told her I wrote about the GrandpaO bobblehead. He was GrandpaO to her and my daughters. She said, “Well, that would do it!” I took the phone to the kitchen and began answering emails.

here you go: … surprises/

Great job as per usual. Thank you so much for sharing your Dad with us. He was your Dad, but he was also special to the whole state.

I’m always reminded that he had friends in 75 counties and in pockets of Arkansans scattered through the world. I still am stopped with stories. So many have his letters framed on their walls and handed down to their children. I am sure I now have some of the carbons of those letters in these files in my study. He did write with carbon paper. Most things were typed, although I know some have hand written notes, too. Thanks, Jim.

Touching rekindled memories.

Thanks for sharing. These personal events you share
from time to time are special to us Hog fans.

The Henry family is a part of our Razorback HOG-DNA.

To describe OH as legendary is inadequate! Read him for many years in the old Gazette!

How great was it reading OH’s Sunday paper articles about the Hogs!!

What you guys have to know is that I read them along with all of you. We talked about some of that stuff at home, but I knew if I wanted to be able to ask questions, I had to read his columns. Now that’s not all we talked about. He wanted to quiz us on our studies. It was tough around the house. He made me take Latin in the 10th grade. He told me after a few weeks of hearing me complain, “I wouldn’t ask you to do something I didn’t do. Latin is going to help you.” Maybe it has, but I’m going to talk to him about that at some point down the line.

You never know the reaction a column might get. Sometimes they don’t interest one person, not even my wife.

I can tell you that the one from this weekend, created a stir that I haven’t seen in a bit. It tells me plainly that my dad may be gone but not forgotten. I know it’s not how I wrote about him, but just the subject matter. My phone lit up with texts to awake me around 6 a.m. until I had gone to bed (although I was just watching Netflix, not asleep). There were text notes, emails and mentions on Facebook from former coaches and players whom my dad covered, former colleagues in the media business and some of my friends from years gone by whom I rarely see. I finally turned my phone on silent at about 9:30 p.m. last night. My wife gave me the look (and I know it) that it was time to leave my phone and at least have one decent conversation with her for the day. I know when she’s had enough.

I still have boxes and boxes of my dad’s stuff to devour. I’ll wait until the end of that before I write another one of these columns. They are emotional for you guys to read and emotional for me to write. They are good for all of us, I know. But you can only do it so much.

I also understand that there are many in this audience who have no clue who my dad was or why any of this matters. Nothing wrong with that. He’s been gone for almost two decades. Our game has changed, and by that I mean the mediia the youngsters use. They don’t know that the newspaper was about all there was at one point. No talk radio, no social media and really almost no games on TV. Guys like my dad had us at hello (or when we popped the rubber band off the rolled newspaper). I know Bill Connors was like that in Oklahoma when I worked there in the 70s and 80s (and well before).

At any rate, thanks for all who tolerated my (our) drift back into history the last week or so.