From cotton gin to community leader: A tribute to my father's enduring impact

Thank you to the Southern Ginner’s Association for honoring my dad with this scholarship.

In the 1940s, my great-great-grandfather purchased an established cotton gin in a small town in the bootheel of Missouri, our hometown of Hornersville. It was a significant moment for our family, as it planted the seeds for a legacy that would span generations.

Decades later, after a successful run at the ginning business themselves, both his father and grandfather passed away in the same year.

Following this, at the age of only 21, in 1973, John Edmonston, stepped in to take over running the gin. It became much more than a family business; it became the backdrop to so many cherished memories and the stage where my dad’s values and work ethic shone the brightest.

As children, my brothers and I spent countless hours at the gin. The faint hum of machinery from the gin filled the air, a steady reminder of the work being done. We loved being in that space.

My brothers, John II, Justin, Aaron, and I would help our dad whether that was on the lot or inside the office.

My brothers often mowed or drove module trucks, while I was inside with Dad’s secretary lending a hand to complete small tasks, my favorite being able to use the adding machine that dispensed long streams of paper.

Other times, I’d sneak Dum-Dum suckers or Tootsie Pops out of the vault, the sugary treats making those moments feel a little sweeter.

But more than anything, I loved simply observing my dad. Listening to his conversations, watching how he carried himself, and seeing the respect he garnered from everyone who walked through those doors taught me more than he likely ever realized.

My dad didn’t just run the gin—he became a leader in the ginning community. He served as President of the Southern Ginner’s Association, an organization that recognized his dedication and contributions to the industry. Having this scholarship given in my dad's honor to Southeast Missouri State University, where his mother attended, he attended for a time, one granddaughter previously graduated, and two granddaughters currently attend, is a proud moment for our family, symbolizing the continuance of his values, work ethic, and respect. It was a testament to his belief in hard work, innovation, and, above all, service.

In the office and beyond, my dad revealed his true self. He was a man of unwavering principles and endless generosity. When my son interviewed him for a project titled “The Shrinking Mosaic of Rural America,” my dad summed up his philosophy in a single sentence: “Customer service was … the name of the game.” And he didn’t just say it—he lived it. He treated every farmer, salesperson, and customer with kindness, patience, and a genuine desire to help. He believed in going above and beyond, often giving more than was asked or expected.

His commitment to service wasn’t limited to the gin. My dad embodied that same spirit of generosity in his personal life. He would give anyone the shirt off his back or his last dollar, never expecting anything in return. He believed in helping people simply because it was the right thing to do. That quiet, steadfast kindness made an impression on everyone who met him. It certainly left an indelible mark on me.

My dad had a few places that brought him the most joy. The gin was, of course, at the top of the list. He loved the work, the rhythm of the seasons, and the community it created. But when he wasn’t ginning, his favorite moments were spent with family at Norfork Lake. Those weekends and summers were filled with fishing trips, laughter, and stories shared around the table. He found peace on the water, casting his line and waiting for a bite, surrounded by the people he loved most.

Another favorite place of his was spending time on the river with his sons. He loved going out to hunt and fish, enjoying the stillness of nature, and creating memories at the family cabin. The cabin was more than just a structure—it was a sanctuary, built by hand, where stories were told, bonds were strengthened, and time seemed to slow down. Those trips to the river with his sons were some of his most cherished moments, filled with adventure and love.

He also had a knack for fixing things. Whether it was building something new or repairing something old, he poured himself into each project. It didn’t matter if it was a creaky door or a broken engine—if one of his kids needed help, he was there, tools in hand and determination in his heart. He took pride in solving problems and making things better, often in ways that only a father’s touch could achieve.

When I think about my dad, it’s hard to separate the man from the values he stood for. He was deeply rooted in faith, family, and community. He believed in hard work and honesty. He approached life with a quiet strength and an unshakable belief in doing what was right. His actions spoke volumes, teaching us lessons that no words ever could.

There’s a warmth that comes from remembering him, a glow that fills my heart as I recall those days in the gin office, the weekends at the lake, and the countless little ways he showed his love. My dad’s legacy isn’t just in the gin he ran or the projects he completed; it’s in the lives he touched, the values he instilled, and the memories he left behind. He taught us to serve others with kindness, to cherish family, and to always give our best. Those lessons are his greatest gift to us.

Even though he’s no longer here, his presence is still felt in every corner of my life. It’s in the way I approach challenges, the way I treat others, and the way I find joy in the simple moments. My dad’s favorite places—the gin, the lake, the river, and the workbench—may have been ordinary to some, but to him and to our family, they were extraordinary. They were places where love, laughter, and life came together, creating memories that will last a lifetime.