Thanks to @imrodmartin, I know that this is the 21,320th day for me on this mortal coil. It is Saturday, January 29th, 2022. Today would’ve been my dad’s 81st birthday. I talked to him a bit this morning, hoping to feel his presence in some fashion… and that presence was there, in me.
It’s part of the legacy, I guess. My dad made a contribution, changed some people’s destinies, got some guys back on the road when they needed to get home, and he was the father to four kids. I’m the oldest, and part of my legacy will be the people I have helped in the training classes I’ve been providing for almost thirty years. And then, there are my kids, who I hope I have raised to be good people and will make similar contributions.
You always wonder whether your parents are proud of you, being their child. My dad, later in life, was much more forthcoming about telling us that he loved us, and it was always meaningful.
Yeah, had to pause a moment there. It’s not always easy to reflect.
I tell my kids I love them and I tell them how proud I am of them when it’s appropriate – kind of like curse words, it almost seems like the more you use certain words and expressions, the less meaning they have. Kids that curse every other word drive those words into meaninglessness. There are lotharios out there that will tell every prospective lover that he loves them will all his heart… part of his game of seduction. Seems that can take words from “meaninglessness” straight to ill intent real quick.
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Enough for now… but I think my dad would appreciate the fact that I have made a commitment to writing. He once dreamt of being a writer, but responsibilities took him down a different path.
I hope the world is treating you better than you deserve.
Peace y’all.
