I may write about my sons a lot, but I’m so proud of them both. When Randy was age two, my dad (Porky Senior) came to our house and told my wife, “Pack his (Randy’s) lunch.” Bess said, “No. Until he’s three, he’s mine.” The day he turned three, my dad told Bess, “Pack his lunch.” From that day forward, and until my dad passed, the two of them were inseparable — from rebuilding a lawnmower engine in the dog house, to riding our Jeep or fishing. When they were together, my dad wasn’t too available because he and Randy were busy doing something. My dad passed before Chris (“Piglet”) had much of a chance to know him.
Both sons are following in my footsteps. Randall (my eldest) currently lives near us and works for a local drilling contractor. Many of you who know Randy know that, given a project that involves mechanical, electrical, welding, design or fabrication, he’s your man. Usually on Saturday’s, he and I work on rebuilding several well rigs. Some are very old. Randy’s married and at this time has no interest in traveling overseas.