Alvis Joe Boyd

Alvis Joe Boyd
November 04, 1941 - April 24, 2025
My dad, Alvis Joe Boyd (A.J.) died April 24, 2025. He was 83. He is survived by his son, Brad Boyd, and A.J.’s wife, Joan Lester Boyd. Mom has had dementia even longer than dad, and has forgotten she was ever married. She will not greive, even though they were simpatico for decades. A.J. is predeceased by his mother, Eva Boyd, his brothers James Boyd and Herman Boyd, and his sister Myrtle Pendleton Thompson. His neighbors will remember dad as a giving person, who loved to share mom’s garden and orchard with the entire neighborhood. His passion was farming. Even in his nursing home, he talked about farming. The staff kept his picture behind the front desk, like an FBI “wanted” flyer, because he was deemed, “most likely to escape”. Which he did…several times. He had to wear an ankle bracelet. He was determined to go home to feed the cattle. His Heart attack occurred a week ago. The next day I got to speak with him, and for five minutes he was surprisingly coherent. As he slipped away today, his nurse told him, “Don’t worry. Your cows are being cared for”. Most of his cows had names…”Bossy”, “Heifer”, “Curious”, “Ma Ma”, etc. Our Guernsey was “Susy”. Whenever dad saw a mouse in the barn he would carefully capture it alive, carry it to a pasture field and set it free. He did the same with black snakes. My first memory of dad was when I was probably two, when every morning at 6:30 he would carry me to Grandma’s house so he and mom could drive to work in Blackburg. When the farm was purchased in 1971, I was seven. The barn roof needed work. I remember him on the second floor, hammering with his right hand, while his entire body weight was hanging from his left hand, suspended over 40 feet of empty space. As I saw that at age seven, I remember thinking, “I’ll never be able to do that”. And I never did. Dad walked a straight back, fiercely independent. But he could also be funny and social. He had a quick, and sometimes blunt, wit. What came out of his mouth often surprised. The judge presiding over dad’s competency case decided to postpone the hearing as soon as we sat down. Dad said, “You mean I shaved my legs for this”? Two deputies doubled over in laughter. The judge tried NOT to laugh. He failed. But no remembrance of dad would be complete without mentioning his relationship with his wife. They were practically inseparable, married for almost 62 years. After mom retired from Va Tech, the two of them spent a minimum of two hours each morning at the Breakfast room table, eating hot dogs and sipping coffee. I often wondered how any couple could have so much to talk about after decades of marriage. They were also dancing partners. For 20+ years they spent most Friday nights dancing to “Ol’ Time” music. Dad rarely rarely left the county except to go to the stock yard or dancing. For that reason, I decided four years ago to forgo a funeral or graveside service. Neither of them cared much for funerals. Not enough dancing. Instead, I decided to have a joint, “Celebration of Life” event after BOTH have died. Together. That how they would have wanted it. Dad started life as a mountain boy, both Buffalo and Slate. His family were founding members of Robert Childress’s Slate Mountain Presbyterian. His older brothers had an enormous influence on dad. As kids they rode three-boys-on-one-bike to Charlie Hylton’s store, where Charlie always gave them a free Strawberry Nehi soda. Every Halloween, the three brothers walked to Mabry’s Mill with a sheet with eyeholes. Since it was Halloween, they would climb on each others shoulders (with dad at the top), drape the sheet over themselves, and proceed to scare anyone visiting the mill. I was also told they sometimes played a game in which they tossed a toddler to one another like passing a football. I wonder if Shirley Moran remembers that. When dad got married to mom, he moved to Alum Ridge next to mom’s parents. Granddad never had a son. And dad’s father died when dad was three months old. So they got along like a real bonded father and son, and worked together for years while attending Pleasant Valley Church. For that reason, Dad will be buried Monday at Pleasant Valley cemetery.