Clayton was born in Greenville SC on December 11, 1983.
There is so much to tell about him and his life. I will have to do it in segments.
Clayton was a happy baby and never put up a lot of fuss and such. He was happy and loved making others smile and happy too.
When he was small, he loved playing with his cars...Matchbox and Hot-Wheels. His love for cars began early, you see.
I can't begin to tell you the number of pairs of jeans he wore the knees out of rolling his cars around in the dirt and on the pavement or sidewalk.
He and his brother were like twins.
They had a special bond that can never be broken. But that doesn't mean they didn't fuss.
I remember the first time Clay ever fought back when his big brother picked on him.
He was playing in his Red Power Wheels Trans Am in the yeard. Big brother decided he wanted to play on it and went and pushed Clay out of it. Clay tumbled backwards out of it, but nary a tear did he shed.
he picked himself up, walked over to the sandbox, sat down and began playing with the small sand-bucket and filled it up.....just quietly playing by himself.
Big brother was "driving" the Trans AM and not paying little brother much attention. I was watching from the window.
When Clay had filled the sand bucket, he stood up, dusted off his diaper and picked the sand bucket up. He toddled over to where his big brother was still "driving" and then he smacked his big bro in the back of the head with the sand bucket. Big bro went tumbling out of the T/A , and Clay calmly climbed back into it and started playing again.
That was the beginning of their best friends days. From then on- they were equals in everything they did- for good....or bad. They loved each other dearly...
To be continued..................
Clay and his brother Frank had a POWER-WHEELS truck when they were small. After they wore out the batteryfor it- before we could run out and buy them a new one for it, they fixed the gear-box so the truck would free-wheel.
We lived in a mobile home park at the time and it had a drive that was about a 45% grade. Clay took that truck one morning and pushed it to the top of the hill(we lived about halfway down it) and decided he was going to take it down the hill. He had done it when the gear-box was still on it- but it wouldn't let it go more than 5 miles per hour, I think it was.
He was hollering with JOY as he drove past me as I was hanging clothes on the line that spring day. I looked up to see him STREAK past the house with his long blonde hair blowing straight back in the wind and the biggest smile you had ever seen on his face. I dropped the clothes and raced to the front of the house to see him heading towards the mobile home at the end of the pavement. If he hit it he would have been decapitated, but at the last possible moment he wretched the steering wheel on that P/W truck and did a complete 360 and came to a dead stop of the pavement with only inches to spare.
He was so proud of himself...and I had never been so scared in my entire life. I ran to him, took him off and checked him for anything hurt, hugged him and then promptly took that free-wheeling death-trap to the dumpster and trashed it.
Clay was crying when his brother came in from Kindergarten and Frank asked him why he was crying. Clay told him.."Mama, frowed my twuck in the twash!".
So Frank put his bookbag down and went to the dumpster and got it out for Clay. He brought it down to the yard and told his brother to not take it on the pavement anymore, and Clay said okay.
Then Frank came in and told me that"Bubba loves that truck, mama, and I told him not to go on the pavement with it agian and he said he wouldn't, and I PROMISE you he won't do it again."
So I let it go...and true to their word, Clay never took it on the pavement down that hill again.
