It's August 30, 2006. My father would have been 88 today and might still be around but for the asbestos-induced cancer he contracted in the automobile repair business.
The older I get, the more I understand my dad. He wasn't exactly an intellectual--it took him a couple of years to get through high school and he didn't bother with college--but he had a wit about him and was a genius with mechanical things. The smartest thing he ever did was marrying my mother, who should have gone to college and would have done well if she had, but she was the financial brains of the family and did really well with what little an auto mechanic brought in. With two kids of my own, I realize more now how hard a job being a parent is, something I didn't get as a child in the old days. He wasn't a big one for hugs or telling me all the time how much he loved me, his generation wasn't always that demonstrative, but he was there when I needed him.
I miss both my folks every day and wish they were still around to talk to. Happy 88th, Daddy.
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