Quoting Morris, "Aug. 23 ,1926 I was born at home in a small house that 
my Dad built. It is still standing today but barely. There was no plumbing,
the walls were were just boards vertical with slats over the cracks on the 
outside. Heat was a fireplace and a wood cook stove." 
This was written by Morris on the occasion of his 86th birthday, August 
23, 2012.

He notes the old house is still standing. I add that there's a huge fig
tree out front (pretty much overgrown now). We always looked forward to
visiting when the figs were ripe.

Morris' story is very much reflective of all us Mixson kids born from, say,
1915 through the mid to late 40's. And the woods out there were full of us
during that period. The grade wasn't called "Mixson Road" for naught!

I add to the saga by saying none of our families were well to do and life
was a continuous survival struggle. Most were involved in some kind of farming
(vegetable and animal) which then as now is a crap shoot. I've often said
that were it not for the hunting and fishing prowess of our parents we'd 
likely have gone hungry quite a bit.

Morris' life pretty much mirrors how all us cousins, brothers and sisters
evolved from those bare beginnings.

Morris went on to serve us in the US Navy during WW II. His diary of that
adventure provides amazing detail and should be required reading for us all.
Click here for an excerpt from July/August 1945.

You know the saying "marrying the preacher's daughter"? Well, Morris did,
marrying Barbara Rose Junior in December of 1950. They proceeded to produce
four children and are still together...at this writing, approaching their
62nd wedding anniversary. They've resided in Gainesville, FL, for as long
as I can remember.

Morris' career is associated with the University of Florida. There, he 
spent 40 years serving the chemistry department.

I think we can all agree this story is one of having lived a full, productive
and successful life.