During the summer of 1968 I was 6 years old. I remember a cookout my family was having and I was being a little clingy with my father. I had recently had a birthday and I remember being curious about everyone's age. I asked my Dad how old he was. He replied that he didn't know and I found that impossible to believe. I insisted he tell me so he subtracted 31 from 68 and answered me. I'm certain he still doesn't know his own age, but now that I know him better, I think I understand why. One of the qualities I love the most about my father is his ability to live in the moment.
He has taught me so much. He has a certain wisdom that is hard for me write about. Throughout my life he has been one of my best friends.
In the pic is the birthday boy, his guide dog Belle, my brother Mark and his son Mitch.
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