Father's Day....

"Lives of great men all remind us we can make our lives sublime. And, departing, leave behind us footprints on the sands of time."

- Longfellow

 His story is like so many others.

 He came from a long ways away. From Scotland.

 He came to a new country to make his way in the world.

 He met my mother.

 And they decided to make their way together. In this world.

 In the 1930's and 40's they lived on under $40.22 a month. Christmas  presents in 1938 totalled  $1.00 per person . As tabulated in my mother's expense book.

 In 1939 rent was $15 a month.  Light $3.99. A pair of shoes cost $1.00. And groceries $5.00. Tobacco cost $2.00

 In the 60's they adopted me. Can't-sit-still-a-minute little old me.  We would play tag in the fall leaves. I can still remember  it. Crunch. Crunch. Went the leaves. I hated that brown snowsuit.

 We would rake those leaves.

 Then run through them again. And again.

 He didn't have much of a voice. It was gone by then.

 But he would still try and run in the snow when it was winter.

 By the last season, he tried to run in the leaves for the last time.

 My dad died  in 1968.  It was a very long time ago. But I remember him, like it was yesterday. And I  remember those 7 short years we had , as if it were a lifetime.

This is the last photo that was taken. We were headed to a school concert. His last one. There were no leaves to run in. I hated that red jacket. It was itchy. But I could have just stood there. With him.  Forever.

 "It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was." - Anne Sexton (1928-1974 Pulitzer Prize winner)