Eugene Jack Moseley

A man of many names, he was known to many as "Jack" and to the luckiest as "Daddy" or "Poppy." He was born on July 20, 1929 in San Antonio, TX, presumably with tin cans already strapped to his feet for his perennial treks uphill (both ways!) through the south-Texas snow. He was born to Mary Anna Peden and Thomas Byrd Moseley along with siblings Thomas Byrd Jr., Virgil Hugh, Dorothy Lee, and Lois.

Jack graduated with honors from the McCombs School of Business at the University of Texas at Austin in 1951 and bled burnt orange ever since. He married his wife Douglas on February 19, 1955 in El Paso, TX. Jack worked briefly for General Electric before signing on with Texas Instruments in order to work within his beloved home state (his grandfather, he would proudly inform you, was born in the great Republic of Texas). He stayed with TI for 34 years and earned his MBA at Southern Methodist University in 1967.

Jack adored his three daughters, Cheryl, Gayle, and Karen, but felt that sometimes tough love was the best encouragement. Jack was known for his unwavering honesty and would tell you like it is whether you wanted to hear it or not. This attitude encouraged those closest to him to push themselves to do more and to be more. But between episodes of his most persuasive oratory (not known for sugar-coating or crooning in dulcet tones), Jack could be found delivering breakfast every morning to his three primping beauties throughout their high school years.

Jack held dual titles as the Most-Dependable-Fixer-Upper and the Cheapest-Man-You-Ever-Met. Often these traits complemented each other. His daughters frequently called on his handy-man services when his retread tires, scavenged (and brightly painted) car parts, or ingeniously creative plumbing solutions went haywire. If you ever needed anything -- from a new coat of paint to a moving man to an (admittedly indulgent) babysitter -- he would be there as soon as his somewhat reckless driving skills could get him there.

Poppy was always a hit with his grandchildren. He'd string leashes to bees, dig for buried treasure, and hoard Monopoly money like he'd never aged past nine. He played checkers (Chinese and otherwise), Old Maid, Go Fish, Hearts, and Candyland like the best of them, never holding back a deft maneuver or expletive. With arguably the biggest sweet-tooth in the family, he'd whip up root beer floats or Blue Bell ice cream for his grandkids in a flash. His dresser drawers were famous for the stash of "rollers" held within: finely aged tootsie rolls with a decidedly unique firm-but-chewy texture.

When he wasn't spoiling his grandchildren, Jack was scouring the house for something to tinker with per his "If it ain't broke you should probably mess with it anyway" attitude. Jack was into thrifty, sustainable living before it was cool, trying his hand at growing all his favorite fruits and vegetables and making his own figserves each year. To his chagrin, neither Lay's Wavy Classic Potato Chips nor Dinty Moore Beef Stew grew on trees. Jack also spent a lot of time curating his eclectic music collection (which ranged from Annie Lennox to samba) and churning out mixtape after mixtape to share with his loved ones. Upon walking into his room, you had a 50/50 shot of catching him either listening to some good tunes or marathon-watching the tennis channel.

In the final years of his life, Jack could be found pushing Ensure, looking lovingly through old photos, or raving about the Horns. He formed a special bond with his at-home caretaker Shanadra "Shalanda" Ballard, a woman who could see past his prickly exterior and laugh at his antics. She never put up with his nonsense and had an uncanny gift for bringing out the best in him. Jack was eager to be on his feet and refused to slow down. From landscaping to plumbing, Jack continued diligently working on his cherished home until his final day. He never wanted to leave home and, always stubbornly standing his ground, he got his wish. Jack passed away at home in the company of his beloved caretaker on a beautiful May morning.

Jack Moseley will be remembered for more than could ever be written down. He will be on our minds every time we pass an El Fenix, eat banana pudding, fix a pipe, see UT's sacred burnt orange, listen to his music, or paint a wall. He is lucky to have been loved so deeply and we, in turn, are lucky to have been a part of that love. He is survived by his wife of 61 years, Douglas Moseley, daughters, Cheryl Huckabee, Gayle Roberts, and Karen Cherico, and his grandchildren, Jack and Dan Huckabee, Grace Paulter, Meredith Roberts, and Declan Cherico. We all miss him dearly.