Homer or Big Buddy as I referred to him was a very lovable man. He was a quiet guy that loved his social time in "Ralph's" stand up bar. Literally a bar with no stools. A "Man's" bar that women felt out of place in. The working laborer's haven. Somewhere to have a cold one, shot the shit with the boys and not worry about your swearing or spilling beer on each other. Many of tall tales came out of that place. A few fights as well.

I remember Jupiter Florida as a quiet town on the edge of the ocean. There were three bridges over the Loxahatchee River, two still functioning while the old one was used for swimming and fishing. The river flowed inward toward Indiantown, and was wide at some spots. The bridges were slow moving to allow sailboats through. Riding my bike to work only took 15 minutes if the bridgetender could get the mechanics to work quickly. The old marina was just north of Ralph's. I would ride my bike by there in the morning and would see an osprey everyday. She would be sitting on an old piling searching the depths for a good size fish. I would whistle to her and watch her cock her head in my direction. She was my pet in the wild. Often times she would whistle back and we would carry on a conversation. Jupiter was still a small town in the early eighty's. The side streets were still covered with white sand. The palm trees grew to the edge of the street and the were no curbs. The road was flat and one could drive almost anywhere without getting into trouble. I miss the simple life without all the technology abounding.

Big Buddy would meet his workers at the local stand up and have a cup of coffee before heading out into the blazing sun. His son Homer Jr. worked with him slopping tar over roofs. Roofing is definitely a rough job to have in the heat of Florida. Going to have a cold beer was usual for that type of job. If I wanted my son Weldon to see his dad or grandfather I would have to meet them up there before dinner. Before too long there would be no comprehending any conversation with either one of them. The boy did learn to shot eight ball when he was around the pool hall. Every boy needs that bonding with their male elders.

Big Buddy had a way with the ladies. There were several women that I noted were influential in his last days. He had two wives at one time and four children that I know of. Homer was a roofer by trade. He traveled across the United States working for the U.S. Air Force covering roofs on bases. Somewhere along the way he met Phyllis Buskirk wed her and traveled to Alaska and the norhwest to work. Two of the children were born in Tacoma Washington. Rebecca on the way to Alaska, and Homer on the way back down to the lower states. Paula was born in Florida and Vicki also. Vicki is his child by Deloris Turner his second wife. Buddy jr. said he traveled to the Bahamas when a teenager to help roofhouses over there. The travel was 100 miles from W.Palm Beach port. across in a boat. Dad was in the Navy possibly during World War II. He didn't speak of it often as there were alot of bad memory's.

I asked him once how he could make it home from the bar, be so stinking tight and never have an accident or get pulled over by the local cops? He said to lineup the hood ornament with the white line on the edge of the road and you should be able to keep the car in the center of the road without going over the lines. I found that this little trick works. I have had to utilize the formula several times when driving home over tired. Dad you are missed even after 16 years of time lapse. Still in our thought and dreams. Love your daughter-in-law Therese J. Bussey

Homer Bussey