Birth date: Aug 19, 1946 Death date: Sep 9, 2020
Donald R. McCants passed away on September 9, 2020 at the age of 74, after a long and hard-fought battle with Parkinson’s Disease. Don was born August 19, 1946 and raised in Dallas, TX to Alford and Amelia McCants. He graduated fr Read Obituary
Don and I met at John Calvin Presbyterian Church and were classmates at Thomas Jefferson.
He was kind, thoughtful and a gentleman.
The last time we met was in December 1968 when I returned to Dallas for Carolyn Clack Lee’s wedding.
My sincere condolences to his wife and daughters. You had a fine man for a husband and dad.
RIP Don.
Liz Graff Sanders
As a child, there were many instances of boating, fishing, hanging out on the slip, and sitting quietly with my Dad on a placid lake with lines dropped. When a single-person fishing boat would silently float by, he’d say, “Don’t talk too loud or you’ll scare the fish away.” He always had a learning tip to offer, but never too many. I was terribly intrigued by the colors and textures of the lures in his tackle box. One time we were out at Lake Lavon, and after pulling up the anchor to relocate, he said “We’re out of gas” -MOM WASN’T WITH- and told my sister and I to “HOLD ON” -I DID- while we gunned a bee-line back to the shore, T-intersecting the choppiest waves I’ve ever felt under my seat.
My Dad was a quiet, yet invested and involved father. When sports fell apart for me, he encouraged my bicycling interest and drove me to Wichita Falls one summer to ride in the “Hotter Than Hell 100” Bike Race. That namesake did stand true. By high school, I was collecting picture books of vintage cars. This did not go unnoticed by my Dad. My first car, and the one he taught me to drive on, was a 1964 Mercury he’d found. Within a few months, he’d given me my first repair job: Hand-stitching the visors. I think this may have been a proud papa moment. He did love his cars...
He always told me to do what I’m good at—which felt like a riddle, because I’ve always been all over the map. As an adult, he encouraged my writing. Worth noting: He never pushed me, or any of us into the car business, though a few of us certainly found ourselves there.
I moved away from home when I was 18. My parents would send me cards for every holiday, Mom invariably signing all of them, “Mom & Dad” at the end. But one time Dad scribbled in “& Dad & Mom” right next to hers with his sass and sarcasm-- which he carried through ‘til the end of his time here, I assure you.
When visiting me in Austin, Vermont, and California, my father really enjoyed my unique set of friends. They loved him too. Dad had such an easy and cool-headed personality. He had an ability to just enjoy people-- to see what makes them tick, I think.
Although I stayed out of trouble as a child, I did put my parents through the ringer relatively speaking, during my final year of college 25 years ago. Here are some closing words he sent to me from a handwritten letter, during an unusually challenging parenting year:
“However you react, or change, or not, I love you very much and will always be proud of who and what you are.”
These words are with me this week.
(continued below)
(Part 2)
For those who haven’t seen my father in a while, this is for you.
Parkinson’s is not easy. It’s important to speak about this. This was 11 years of his life. It shaped who he was, deepened our relationship, and brought our family closer together.
I have been honored to know him, especially through this phase of his life. He aced this, and he did so with grace. We often say we “fight” a disease. We do what we can to rise to the challenge, to combat it, to stave it off. My father did all of this. However it is when he “let go” that I saw his deepest strength. This was his greatest teaching to me. He handled life-in-adversity while thoughtfully putting others first, with respect and kindness every step of the way. When I say he aced this, I mean his grace in this process was an Inspiration. When things took an unexpected medical turn in our family just a few years ago, I watched him problem-solve with such thoughtfulness, revealing a depth and care for his decisions, his words, and how they would affect others.
His recent years were not without moments of his distinct humor, sass, and astutely observant mind. When I brought my partner Andy home for the first time two years ago, my father sat upright and shook his hand with purpose, respect, and sincerity. Andy spoke directly to him, sharing what enriches him in life and a bit about our relationship. My Dad silently and intently took it all in. After a long spell of listening followed by a well-timed pause, Dad said, “You’re a male version of Terry–-‘Man’ Terry!” Keen observation, Dad… and a warm welcome into the family for my partner. We were all in stitches.
When people go through Parkinson’s, we can fear that they will eventually “disappear” on us. This was never the case with my father. We were able to speak on the phone every few weeks, certainly with some challenges. He would often end the call with “Love you, Baby.” For the particularly challenging days to communicate over the phone, this was not only enough; it was everything.
My favorite image will always be of him standing, two feet solid-on-the-ground in an A-frame stance, arms-crossed, having a jovial conversation while hanging out in the garage. Bonus if there was a beer… For everyone. My favorite feeling though, that would be his hugs. If you know those hugs, take a moment here to feel that.
He loved food, especially Mexican and BBQ. And I swear he told me a few years back that he would want us all to someday celebrate together with some Tex-Mex and top-shelf margaritas. If my memory’s correct, and I think it is, he sure didn’t hesitate to answer my question.
Let us each hold that spirit for him, for lunch, for dinner... Make a toast. Maybe from home, maybe with a little Willie & Waylon on the side...
He’ll be right there to enjoy it with us.
~Terry McCants (Don's daughter)
Don was always my favorite go to guy at Sewell. Professional in every way, friendly and extremely knowledgeable. I have missed him the last few years, and I want the family to know that he had an impact on my life. Dennis McCuistion
Prayers for you and your family 🙏🏻❤️
Greg & Mellisa Johnson
I have known Don since 1978 when I bought my first Cadillac. I continued buying Cadillacs for years because I knew I could depend on Don to take good care of my car. Don was always happy and accommodating and I could believe everything he told me. I am so sorry to hear of his passing, wish condolences to his family, and feel I too have lost a good friend. Blessings to his family.
