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Note: My father, David Macpherson, was a talented musician. He had a God-given singing voice which he tried to make a living with. But he was a victim of the Depression. Named for a grandfather he never knew, he was raised in Oklahoma and southern Missouri. Graduating from high school at 21, he attended college at University of Wisconsin on a partial scholarship, then finished his bachelor of music degree at SMU. Father struggled to support his family as a choral director at churches before sinking everything he had in a photo-finishing business to take advantage of providing "snapshots" for the airmen at Sheppard Air Force Base during WWII. He worked hard at this family-business for about 20 years, retiring to make pictures on consignment, then giving up that about the time he suffered his first stroke in 1972. His second stroke ended his life on Feb. 21, 1973. My father was a wonderful comedian. He enjoyed singing in the choir at the First Presbyterian Church in Wichita Falls where he lived for 34 years. He also was fond of reading philosophy and the company of friends. His ashes are interred next to my mother's at Riverside Cemetery. Their marker reads, "Artists in Paradise."
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