Sunday, June 15, 2014

Father's Day

My father died a week short of his 90th birthday. The longer I live, the more things I think of that I'd like to tell him, to do with and for him...but it's too late.

My dad didn't have an easy life, but he always made time for family. No matter how tired he was when he came home, he was willing to pick up the catcher's mitt and play catch with me for half an hour or so. (Sorry I never made it to the big leagues, Dad, but you instilled in me a lifelong love of the game).


The picture here is of the last trip I made with Dad, a time when he, I, and his two grandsons met in Baltimore to see a Ranger game. I don't recall the score of the game, but I still remember sitting in the nosebleed section of that stadium and enjoying the time together.

Fathers, regardless of whether you leave your children a pile of money or none at all, leave them the most important thing. Leave them memories. That's what my father did.


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