We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
When my dad went into the hospital for the final time I sensed that he knew it would be his last visit there. I had some time alone with him and mentioned that I must have caused him a great deal of grief once upon a time.
"No, you didn't. I knew you'd come around and be OK."
I was due to travel on business early the next morning and idly mentioned that I would cancel the trip.
"No," he said. "Go. You have work to do. I'll be here when you get back."
I was called home early. It was during that return travel that I first fully understood that I was a father and mortal. He was there, as he'd promised, but only in the general physical sense.
An imperfect man who always did his best for us. Never less.
Nice poem BD.
Equally nice tribute to your dad, Knucklehead.
All in all when you look back on life it's a pretty short ride.
Keep looking forward, because when we look back Father time is gaining on us. The miserable son of a bitch.