Happy Father’s Day

To my Dad.

Growing up, Dad was always working. I don’t have the fond memories of playing catch or going fishing or things like that, but that’s not who my Dad is.

I remember going to Disney World. A few times.

I remember him calling me in to see Snake Plissken’s introduction in ‘Escape from New York’ and watching Rambo crash through the police barricade in ‘First Blood.’

I remember playing Frisbee in the back yard and riding around in the go-cart with him.

I remember him walking out to me in the back yard, still wearing his suit, to discipline me for throwing dirt clods over our back fence and into traffic.

I remember the respect everyone gave him that worked with him at the Food Shows.

I remember him reading Calvin & Hobbes to me.

I remember him bringing home my first Nintendo.

I remember him teaching me to ride my bike on an Easter Sunday.

I remember him giving me the keys to the Scorpio.

I remember going price checking with him.

I remember how tired he would be after working all day.

I remember watching countless hours of John Wayne movies with him.

I remember sitting and listening to Johnny Cash with him.

I remember the day I saw my Dad as a man and not a god.

I remember going shooting with him.

I remember talking to him the day he learned of his impending divorce, and how shaken he was.

I remember embracing him a few hours later after driving to Topeka to be with him.

I remember how eager he always is to talk to me when I call him.

Love you Dad.

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