Kingsport Spirit

Dear Dad,

It’s April 15. Hard to believe it’s been 11 years since I got the call that stopped me in my tracks.

They held off on announcing my appointment as city manager that day, but you already knew it was coming. The mayor had tipped you off ahead of time—maybe that was your sign that we’d be okay, and you could finally go be with your #1 son. You’d spent a painful decade without him. I’d never seen you cry until he passed.

I kept my promise and took care of Mom. She stayed in her home until the end, just like you wanted. Balancing city leadership and caregiving wasn’t easy, but somehow, we managed.

Your namesake grandson got married just two months after you passed—he used your wedding ring as his own. He and Sarah bought a house and gave me two beautiful granddaughters, and with them, a renewed zest for life. We see them nearly every day. He’s thriving in his career—making a name for himself at the state and national level. He’s doing what he loves, just like I did, and it’s a joy to watch him flourish.

Your youngest granddaughter finished school and became a periodontist—Dr. Fleming, just like you always hoped we’d have in the family. She’s in Denver now: bought a house, got engaged, and is living her best life. We still meet up for UT games, just like you and I used to. She’s a diehard Big Orange fan—takes after you.

We lost our starting quarterback because we wouldn’t pay him $4 million to stay. Crazy, isn’t it? Paying players is legal now. But we still make the trip to Knoxville and cheer on the Vols. The family tradition lives on.

After Mom passed, I retired. I loved my career and the people I worked with, but I’m enjoying this next chapter more than I ever imagined. I stay busy volunteering and finally found time to write—something I always wanted to do. A few of my pieces have even been published in the newspaper.

Cristi and I are traveling more now. I know there’s a world beyond Kingsport, but I always love coming home. We’re hoping to visit the airfield in Italy where you served in World War II—walk the same ground you did.

The Knoxville family is doing great. You’d be so proud of them, even though half of them migrated to Florida. Mackenzie gave you two great-great grandsons with big brown eyes and that unmistakable Fleming spark.

Cristi and I will be married 40 years. I still remember all the bits of wisdom you taught me and try to pass it on. You weren’t only my best man at the ceremony, you were my best man for life.

I miss you, Dad. But people keep telling me I look more like you every day—and I take that as a high compliment.

Your son,
Jeff