Good morning. My Dad died this week. He was 90.
He taught me how to go back on a pop up from an infield position. Probably one of my rare talents that I can still do today at almost 60. He taught me not to lie, but when the occasion called for it, he could tell whoppers.
He said always register as a Democrat, because the Republican primary doesn’t matter. That was back in the 60s and rang truer then.
He never cared much about my education, even though he wanted me to have one.
He always thought my girlfriends were snobs but always said two can live cheaper than one.
He was a Shriner, a Mason, served 30 years in the National Guard and the head of his union at the Post Office. He helped people, but I think I got that trait from my grandmother, not him.
My friends liked him because he could always make them laugh.
My brother took care of him the last few years of his life. My Dad had dementia, which eventually took him.
Not all family relationships are good, and there is no reason to pretend they are.
My Dad died this week.
