Thanks, Dad

Dad visited us for a little over a week. He left last Sunday, back home to Las Vegas. He's somewhere around eighty-six years old.

When I was a kid, I hung out alot with my brother Jeff. At the time, I wouldn't have said that he's my best friend, but thinking about it now, he was. Of course, as brothers, we got in our share of fights. But I'll never forget that time that he defended me. I ran a kickoff all the way back for a touchdown and some punk on the other team tackled me after I scored. I didn't do anything, but Jeff ran and tackled him for tackling me. It was a great hit. Don't remember if we won the game, I think we did, but it was alot of fun.

Well, Jeff and I would like to thank Dad. We have alot to thank him for.

So, dad...

Thanks for raising us. For teaching us everything you know about life. For defending this country during World War II. For marrying mom. For showing us how to work. For exposing us to football and music. For trusting us, when the time was right. For paying for all of that food, school, bikes, video games, Hot Wheels, Legos, music lessons, vacations. Thanks for taking us to Disney and Mount Rushmore, and to visit Grandma in San Diego so many times, and to the Space Needle, and Hoover Dam. Thanks for all the stories. For helping me with my golf swing (didn't do much good). Thanks for the cars: the '59 Thunderbird, the '72 Gremlin.

Thanks for playing football out in the street with us.

Thanks for loving Janet and the kids.

So much of me is you. And so much of Jeff is you.

In many ways you taught me what it means to be a parent. Being there. You were there for us.

Thank you.