Byron K Andrews

Byron "Andy" Andrews The second youngest of 15 children, born in Granger, Indiana on July 23,1937. Byron Kay Andrews was the son of Myrtle and Harley Andrews. Jaded from reading sad obituaries noting someone's courageous battle with death, Andy wanted it known that he died as a result of being stubborn, refusing Doctor's orders, and raising hell for eight decades. Thirty seven broken bones from breaking and training horses were among the many things he did to abuse himself. He was released from his worn out shell of a body on August 14, 2017 to join his wife, Andrea Peters Andrews so they may forever wander the stars together in their "Garden". In childhood he enjoyed playing the trumpet, and acquiring fancy cars. With a staggering determination; a bullish work ethic; piercing, intelligent blue eyes; an irreverent sense of humor, inspired creativity, and a laugh and smile that always drew you in, Andy could make anyone fall in love with him (he married a Playboy Bunny) and he built several successful businesses. Andy was a jack of all trades who built many homes, including a railroad tie house which survived Hurricane Andrew. He was a master craftsman who could build or fix anything. He never shied from hard work and always found a way to get the job done. From rebuilding old engines, to creating public parks for the city, to destroying mom's favorite dresser, Dad could do it all. Installing carpet in movie star's homes? Yeah, he did that. Race car mechanic at the Indy 500? Check. An extra in a James Bond movie? Yes. His oldest daughter, Susan, recalls his generosity and kindness to strangers. His youngest daughter, Kathy, remembers that he made sure she feared no man, machine, or beast. His sons, Bobby, Andy, and Cavender, all inherited his mechanical genius, and creative spirit. It is hoped that his many grandchildren, and great grandchildren will also be blessed with his many talents. He loved telling stories whether or not they were true. Many of the true stories of his life, no one would believe. He lived many centuries of life in the eight decades we had with him. He attacked life. He didn't grab the bull by the horns, he corralled the entire herd, and rode them into submission. He died just the way he lived: he wrote his own rules, he railed against authority and, he forged his own path. If someone told him it was impossible, he made sure to do it. The ultimate expression of the Hippie Creed, "Live for Today" - he may well have invented it. Instead of flowers, Andy would hope you will do an unexpected act of kindness for some poor soul in his name, or maybe build something incredible.