A Tribute to My Daddy
”A Cabdrivers Daughter”
My Daddy was my hero—a hardworking, good-hearted man who gave me the kind of love and lessons no money could ever buy. He was a cab driver, working long hours just to keep food on the table. We didn’t have much, and growing up in a rundown two-bedroom house back in the Carolina woods wasn’t easy. The walls were thin, the bills piled up, and life was hard. But through it all, I had a Daddy whose love never wavered.
On the way to open for Ronnie Milsap, a photo of my Daddy slipped out of my Mama’s Bible. There aren’t many pictures of him, and most are blurry, but this one is different—he’s smiling. Behind that smile I can see the weight he carried, the worry of making ends meet, wondering if the power would stay on. Yet, even in the struggle, he always found a way to give me hope.
Daddy passed away when I was only 11, but in those short years he poured everything he had into me. He taught me to play guitar at 7, introduced me to country music, and sat with his guitar while I sang into a hairbrush, standing on our old wooden coffee table. He’d grin from ear to ear and say, “Brenda Lee, one day you’re going to sing on the Grand Ole Opry.”
I cry when I look at this picture, not because of what we lacked, but because of what I gained. I grew up the daughter of a cab driver who showed me kindness, empathy, respect, and resilience. His hands held me tight, played music with me, and wiped my tears when kids at school teased me for being poor. He always made it better.
Though he’s been gone most of my life, I know he’s my guardian angel. He watched me open for Ronnie Milsap, proud that I never gave up. And one day, when I step onto the stage of the Grand Ole Opry, I’ll look to heaven and say: This cab driver’s daughter is here.
This was the house—and the man—who built me. Daddy’s girl, always. ❤️
And if you listen to my song “Carolina,” you’ll hear his story—and mine—woven into every lyric, a reminder that the hardest roads can still lead to beautiful places.
