Today is my father's birthday. He would have turned 84 years old today, had he survived beyond the way-too-impossibly-young age of 68. Though it's closing in on two decades since I last shared my day with him, road-tripped with him, or swam with him out to that little sand bar in the Gulf of Mexico, I can still hear his voice.
Though Mom will never again be with me physically and I will never again open a present from her on a special holiday, I have received the most important gift she could ever give me: the ability to cherish what really matters in life, to find the hidden beauty in everything, to make something from nothing.
Be it biblical or folk; fictional or popular, history in all of its forms has certainly had its share of classic struggles and conflicts: David vs. Goliath; the Hatfields vs. McCoys; Billie Jean King vs. Bobby Riggs; Ginger vs. MaryAnn; the Dallas Cowboys vs. Just About Any Other Team In The NFL and of course, My Hair vs. Humidity. Today, we look at yet another epic 'struggle' and conflict with which countless have taken serious issue.
Not a day goes by that I don't look for him in other people's faces. Not a day goes by that I don't grasp to hold the memories together. Not a day goes by that I don't try to hear his voice again so that I won't lose it. Not a day goes by that I don't try to question him for the answers to my doubts.