Most of you know him as Dave, or maybe David. Or perhaps…
Mr. President (of CRF).
(Fill in your blank).
But only two of us on planet earth are fortunate enough to call him dad.
Today’s his birthday. And not just any birthday, a milestone birthday. I won’t give away the number out of fear he’ll write me out of the will, but let’s just say he may have been born around the same time the allies invaded Normandy. You do the math. (But be careful, he could still kick your butt).
At a time when the word dad is just as likely to trigger heartache as happiness, I’m lucky. If I could genetically redesign my father, I’d remake him exactly as he is (faults and all). You see, we’ve never been under the illusion he’s perfect; we’d never hold him to those kind of unrealistic standards. But he’s been our anchor, our compass, our go-to, the proud wearer of our undersized red converse tennis shoes, our path-clearer, our cheerleader, our example…
I hope my kids feel the same way about me as I do about him.
You might wish you had a few more dollars in the bank, but hands down, you are the richest man that I know.
So happy “_0th” birthday dad!
You couldn’t be loved any more than you are today.