My Father

My Father waa a doer, not a talker. Most of my memories involve me helping him do something in the basement or around the house or yard.

I always was amazed that he could lay on the floor watching TV on his side with his arm supporting his head. I would go numb trying that move.

He worked hard to support us, moved when and where he must to keep working. He had some work dissapointments and financial struggles and tried to keep us out of them.

He was gone alot in later years traveling as a salesman, but we forged a close relationship in his last two decades. I am grateful that a man who had no parents to raise him was my father.