Some thoughts of my Dad on Father’s Day.
I don’t think of my Dad very often. He died in 1993 and I had to look it up to find the year of his death. We didn’t have a close, loving relationship when I was growing up. There were times I didn’t even like him very much. We had nothing in common. My brothers excelled in all sports (basketball, baseball, and football) and because my Dad was an athlete in school, they shared that with each other. I read books. I spent time alone, pondering life and my place in it. I spilled my milk at the dinner table. When my parents divorced (I was twelve), I treated it as just another life event. It really didn’t change anything for me. I carried on.
But looking at his life with the benefit of these many years between my childhood and now, I realize that he was a good man…
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