Many years ago, my dad flipped over a paper placemat in a restaurant and wrote me a letter on the back. I won't share all of it because it is personal, but the following words tell a lot about the patriarch of the family.
"You were a perfect baby,
a terrible teen, a promising star,
blossoming out beyond braided hair
and your 'very own' bedroom.
...You have become better. May I say that to you, with grace? Your impatience has mellowed, and so has mine. Mutual treasure.
Your star is burning ever brighter,
Your star is burning ever brighter,
while ours is burning out.
That is the way of stars, you know.
...My advice is free, but valuable.
Don't be hung up with other's success.
...Rejoice in the small things.
Take time for laughter, and so-called 'little'
people. Take time to love & be loved.
Your Dad"
Your Dad"
Dad, as you end your career...your years of study and preparation and sermons and planning and elders' meetings and work parties and moves and marriage ceremonies and youth rallies and funerals...let me be the first in line to thank you. Thank you for leading us on adventures in New England and Pennsylvania and Texas...for canoes and cameras and shotguns...for hikes and hunts and museums and darkrooms that smelled like vinegar.
For loving our mother.
For picking up your pen and changing the world.
Dad, with his own dad. (1947)
