Some days I think about my dad. He was tough and I had to walk a straight line. Most times it was only the look and I knew I was about to cross a line from which there was no return (LOL). I remember the thousands of times he tossed a football to me. I remember being taught how to hit a curve ball. I remember going into the swamps to pick blueberries (I always ate more than I picked). I remember going into the woods in the fall to search for mushrooms. He only got to the 8th grade when his dad died. He quit school to go to work to help support the family. He wasn’t perfect, but what he gave me far outweighed any father-son hangups I may have collected. Here’s to you, dad! Cheers!