Daddy

I think of him often; I'm not sure why he's made his way into my mind today as I am riding my bike down River Road. Maybe it's the the sight of the river flowing over my left shoulder, the hint of fall just around the corner, or just knowing it's been almost six years since he passed. When I think of him, I like to think of what he was doing when he was my age. I'm forty-five now; he was forty-five when I lived in Bossier. I remember trying to help him sort out his finances; I carted my computer down to their house and set up a budget for them. I thought then - "Wow! Forty-five and not a thing to show for it." Little did I know.

When people think of me, lately I have come to realize, they think of me as a "nice guy." They don't remember the triumphs of my high school days, where I went to college, or my current occupation. Fame and fortune have eluded me, but I am known as a nice guy. Without ever saying it, Daddy reminded me today that's something to be proud of.

In less than five years, Daddy's life would begin to really unravel. It hit him like a brick wall: lost job, failed marriage, crippling health problems. But through it all, I never saw him become hateful or bitter. He continued to be a nice guy all the way to the end. He may have been the kindest man I have ever known. I realize more every day I'm just like him ... and I smile.

Hey Daddy -- the Tigers are ranked #1 -- can you believe that?