I finally summited McKenzie and took a selfie under the sign on the wooded summit. Almost 8 hours into the trip, with a 5.3 mile return still to go, and I was washed in an emotional mix of satisfaction, gratefulness, relief, and a touch of euphoria – the delicious endorphin cocktail that comes after trying and achieving something difficult.
I am absurdly proud of you right now. I think it’s been pretty easy to be your father – to those who say we’re similar, I counter that I was harder to steer.
This week, I’m preparing for my sixth musical at New Hartford High School, the third one entirely designed and run by a student crew. This is an abridged version of the letter I gave the crew, as they begin attending rehearsals.
We said our job was to raise a self-sufficient, contributing member of society; mission accomplished.
Recently, a friend ran into an old classmate, who said she remembered me from school. I looked her up on Facebook, and although the recent profile shot rang a bell, I couldn’t place her. That sent me back to a much earlier facebook, the 1987 FHS (Fairport, NY) Hourglass.
He awoke in the dark, instantly alert. Curious, he sat up and listened. The pale glow from the bedside clock blinked 3:48 am. The house was still; the neighborhood was quiet except for the rustle and last drips of rain through the trees and on the roof. Nothing else moved, but anticipation sparked the edges of his consciousness. What had called him?
The Bible says, “blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” I spent 48 years not seeing and yet believing. I’m done.
There’s good in most people, wisdom even in a ballsy weasel. My father said shit that I remember every day; his bon mots comprise a not-inconsiderable legacy that I’ve passed on to my own kids over the years.
Frodo Baggins was a ruby Cavalier King Charles Spaniel with a bad eye, a bum shoulder and a heart so big it finally broke. He lived March 15, 2009 until October 22, 2016.
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