Shit He Never Wore

Today would have been my Father's birthday - happy birthday, Pa! I'm not sure what his age would have been without looking it up, but he would have been old.

Joe was a good man, but as he got older, you just couldn't buy the guy anything he appreciated. Not to imply that he was particular, because he wasn't. He just figured he had all that he needed and didn't want anything more. The funny part is, Pa didn't really own that much - an old pair of re-soled shoes, 1/2 dozen shirts (pink was his favorite), and a bag of 2nd round golf balls. Layer on top of that a lawn chair to sit in, a radio with a ballgame playing and a cigar and you have the treasures of King Tut's tomb. Grave robbers need not apply!

As I get ready to embark on my closet spring cleaning, I can appreciate the need to simplify. Dad, for your birthday this year I am going to honor your memory by throwing out all the shit that I don't wear. If I come across a pink golf shirt, we'll have a ceremonial burning in the yard.

Happy Birthday, Dad, and don't be afraid to come back in my dreams. I might even let you give me a golf lesson without telling you to f%#k off - I've started to mature since you died.

Your Loving Son,

Robert

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