By Clay Reid
Let me tell you folks about my boy Ace, the last child of my five crazy bunch of kids. Ace is the intellectual. I can assure you intellectual is not a word synonymous with the Reid name. Every now and then, there is that one sheep in the herd that comes along that ain’t exactly black, but he sure has a lot of grey to him. This is the guy we call Ace.
Ace was named after ole man Ace Reid of Electra, Texas, my dad’s uncle and father of the great Cowboy Cartoonist, Ace Reid, Jr. Old man Ace was my father’s surrogate dad when his dad died on the operating table after an oil field accident. He was always larger than life for me when I was a kid, and I loved that name Ace.
So here we are back to my good ole boy Ace, the intellectual. The kid who, from day one, we knew might be a little different when he was lying in the living room floor doing a word search at three years old. When all of a sudden he casually said to his mother, “Mom, this puzzle has me baffled.” Then he paused and said, “Oh, that means confused, by the way.” He was three years old.
Mom was upset that the boy had little faith in her actually knowing what it meant. I agreed with Ace, just saying.
Ace has always been very creative as well, and one day when he was maybe eight years old, he drags his mother into his room to show her his replica of the Kitty Hawk (first airplane) that he built out of computer paper and scotch tape. The plane is hanging from the ceiling from three pieces of thread. He then tells her all the facts and figures of the Wright Brothers’ invention.
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