Joseph "Joe" Harris

Joseph “Joe” Harris
March 5, 1958 – May 25, 2026

Joseph “Joe” Harris finally rolled into the big truck stop in the sky on Memorial Day 2026 because he couldn’t pass away on a random Tuesday. Instead, he had to leave this world on a national holiday so people would think about him every single year.

He leaves behind his beloved wife, Polly, who somehow survived decades of selective hearing, Weather Channel marathons, and Joe’s ongoing belief that every household project could be fixed with “just hold on to your britches” and one more trip to the shed.

He is also survived by his children:
Joe Harris II, James Harris, Cody Harris, Chris Harris, and Lori Seprodi, along with an army of grandchildren who adored him and will forever carry pieces of him with them, including his stories, his humor, his stubbornness, and probably a few questionable habits.

Born in 1958, Joe joined the Marines and made it to Vietnam right at the tail end, arriving just in time to claim partial credit for wrapping the whole thing up. He proudly considered himself a patriot, a Marine, and an expert on absolutely everything, whether you asked or not.

Joe spent 46 years driving an over-the-road semi hauling freight, dodging terrible drivers, surviving truck stop food, and proving every day that coffee and stubbornness can, in fact, keep a man alive far longer than doctors probably expected.

Joe was always up for an adventure, especially if it involved hunting, fishing, blowing something up that probably shouldn’t have been blown up, or building something that absolutely did not need another screw but somehow got six more anyway.

His hobbies included:
• Fishing, where the stories got bigger and the fish somehow got away every time.
• Hunting, where he shot at plenty and swore he almost hit most of them.
• Carpentry, where “level” was more of a suggestion than a requirement.
• And watching The Weather Channel with the intensity of a man preparing for battle.

Joe spent many of his happiest hours planted firmly in his recliner, rotating between reruns he had already watched a thousand times and weather forecasts he treated like breaking news. The TV volume allowed him to continue his favorite pastime: yelling “DO WHAT?” every time Polly spoke, despite having absolutely no intention of listening anyway.

He made friends everywhere he went, including places and with people we specifically asked him not to. You could not take Joe anywhere without him walking away with a new buddy, a new story, or somebody wondering how in the world they ended up in a 45-minute conversation about storms, truck tires, or catfish bait.

Joe loved his Tennessee home, his country, his freedom, and his family fiercely. He may not have had a mansion or a brand-new truck, but he had enough tools to open a hardware store, enough duct tape to repair the Titanic, and enough pride in his family to fill every room in his house.

No matter what kind of schedule he had or how tired he was from the road, Joe always made time for his children and grandchildren. His love for his family never wavered, even when we all collectively tested the absolute limits of his patience on a daily basis.

Joe will be missed terribly, quoted often, and blamed regularly anytime something explodes unexpectedly, or a project comes out crooked.

Services will be held at a later date for family and close friends. If Joe liked you, you probably already know.

Rest easy, Joe. You’ve made your last haul.

Gone fishing.
Gone hunting.
Gone trucking.
Gone, but never forgotten.

Semper Fi, Peepaw.

To send flowers to the family, please visit our floral store.