Sunday rides to anywhere, with Paul Harvey, Tommy Dorsey, Xavier Cougat, Hank Williams and Roger Miller. Reading and traveling the world with National Geographic while cuddling little kids in the big chair. Driving from Ohio to Florida so the boys could witness an Apollo launch. Camping and motelling across America, avoiding the interstates, talking with real folks and seeing as much as could be seen from what was left of old Route 66, the original Mother Road. Fishing silent for hours. Walking, sometimes talking, sometimes silent, through the fields and woods. Looking with love and wonder at new growth, old trees, rocks laid bare by the wear of centuries. Finding time whenever possible to pause and watch the sun set.
I wrote out these memories over a year ago. Shared them at that time with some friends. But some memories are worth sharing again...and some stories should be told more than once. Because.
Especially today.
Thirty six years ago my Dad passed on. Three weeks before Father's Day. One of my only true heroes. But I can still hear his voice. “Don’t worry, Sport. There aren’t any wrong questions…” and…“Shhhh. Come over here. Look at this.”
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