Today is the anniversary of my father’s birth in
1894. My house was 20 years old. As my mother would say, I
got several of his very bad traits. First, he gave away much of
what he had. He helped anyone in need whether he knew them or not. He
would come home without a coat or enough money in his pocket to buy gas if he
saw someone in need. If they had a story and he connected, he was
there for you. He was sentimental and remembered the great times with
vivid detail. He could tell a story down to the finest
detail. And when you listened, you thought you were watching a movie and
could almost smell the picture. I later found out that he did not tell
some stories about his first marriage or some legal problems he
had. I think he had a camera for his memory. Life was always
interesting and what he could not do, he figured out. I thought of
him yesterday as I crawled under my porch in the rain and moved furniture and
ended the day extremely dirty and extremely tired. The waterfalls in
being built in the back yard, the porch is being prepped for painting and I
have trying to do some repairs and clean up and my knees are telling me that
maybe I was born in 1894… All good… and my tee shirt says.. It is easier
to want what you have than get what you want…. I just don’t
believe it… and soon there will be water falling in this urban backyard…
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