Birth date: May 16, 1943 Death date: Dec 8, 2025
Born on May 16, 1943, in El Paso, Texas, Adin was the first son of U.S. Army Major James Robert Hyslop and Mildred Teresa Woods. He grew up in the border town of Del Rio, sharing a busy home with his parents, grandmother, two youn Read Obituary
Deeply grateful for everyone's attendance. With love, The Hyslop Family
Remembering you, Adin, for the best and most joyful Christmas (2023) you spent with us—your family from California.
Your presence, love, and care will never be forgotten.
Thank you for everything you have done for us. We love you, Adin. You are truly one of a kind! 🙏🏻
Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen."
Dad was a passionate sports fan. Professional football and baseball were his favorites. Go Cowboys! Now he wasn’t like a student of the game… he had no interest in explaining to me what a mesh concept was, or how to design a cover two defensive shell, but he loved it when his team was winning, as stressful as that was for him. In little league I played 2nd baseman, and I’ll never forget one time tagging the runner out as he slid towards the bag while the ump called “Safe!” Dad was in the bleachers, but then suddenly jumped off and ran into the field screaming “Hey Blue! Hey Blue! Are you blind?” And, taking his glasses off and throwing them at Ump’s face, he shouted” Do you need these?!!” I think the runner was in fact, safe. I missed the tag and was the one who really needed the glasses.
Thirty years later, Dad came to one of my son’s flag football games. Isaac clearly grabbed the flag off the other team’s running back who ran for a touchdown. But this time, it was me who ran onto the field screaming “Hey Blue! Hey Blue! You need these?!!!” And when I walked back to the sideline, there was Dad behind me in the stands, giving me a nod of approval. I guess LLPS, or “Little League Parent Syndrome” runs deep in the family.
Dad never bought us popcorn and sodas and candy at the movies! Instead he’d made popcorn for us at home and stuffed it in his coat as we sneaked into the movie theater. Incidentally, I took my kids last week to see Marty Supreme, and in honor of Dad, I showed them how to properly sneak in homemade popcorn into the theater. Dad would have been proud.
I remember one time Dad visited me when I lived in San Francisco. His company got him a room at a hotel, The Fairmont of San Francisco. And if you’ve ever visited the Fairmont in San Francisco, you know it’s one of the finest, most luxurious hotels in the world. His flight got in late, and so I came by the next morning to visit him. When he greeted me at his room, I noticed two things: 1. The room was NIIIIICE! And 2, the bed was still made and in fact nothing in the room had been moved. Not even the bar was raided (which is something I’m always sure to do when I’m in a hotel.) But right next to the bed, on the floor, was a shirt he made into a little pillow and a blanket he took from the closet. I asked, “What the heck, Dad? Did you sleep on the floor? And he said, “Yes of course! This place is terrible and uncomfortable and I’m sleeping over at your apartment tonight.” Which he did, of course… on my couch, happy and comfortable as ever.
Young Adin, contemplating the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle: The more accurately one property is measured, the less accurately the other property can be known. So true, Dad.
Clip from Adin's Antarctica Expedition (1995) aboard the Nathaniel B Palmer. (Humble nod to Guy Clark's "L.A. Freeway".) Love you, Dad.
