A Lesson in Character

 It’s always a good day when my 13 year old son runs down from his room to see me after work. These days are kinda like spotting a blessing of unicorns (yep… a group is a blessing) eating four leaf clovers, so I drop everything and listen intently to all that he wants to share.

Like today.  He said, “I actually had a really cool social studies class.”  

“Oh yeah,” I responded, “Tell me.”

He proceeded to tell me about some guy (back in the 1800s I think) who was a full on abolitionist. Apparently this guy was a total radical and incited riots and engaged in all kinds of aggressive, illegal behavior to make his point that slavery was wrong.  I’m not sure what he did (I will google it later because I love learning new things and I’ll have to get the actual name of this guy since that wasn’t a memorable part of the story for my son.). In any case, this guy was eventually jailed and executed by the government for his illegal behaviors, and the question posed to the class was:  Is this man a criminal or a hero?  Let’s discuss.   

Personally I think that’s a very good lesson. It makes you think about a lot of different interpretations of justice, and how people with such strong feelings about injustice should handle them.  I told my son that most passionate people who are willing to defy the law generally don’t live to see any changes they have helped make.  The acceptable way to change laws is through the proper legal channels, and that could take longer than waiting on hold with Verizon (before you get disconnected three times in three different countries,) and some people just can’t wait that long living in a world that is so wrong to them.  In his letter from Birmingham jail, Martin Luther King wrote “One has not only a legal but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws." And way before that, Thomas Jefferson penned, “If a law is unjust, a man is not only right to disobey it, he is obligated to do so.”  Honestly, there is only so much you can do and years will pass before any changes are even considered, and some people just can’t live with that.  Are they heroes or criminals?   Great social studies topic.  How many people died opposing slavery while slaves labored, were tortured, and murdered? How many animals were killed for body parts before species became endangered and poaching was prohibited?  How long do you wait to act?

Personally, I think it’s imperative to address very incendiary topics. They are subjective, so people tend to either stay away from them, follow the masses, or flip flop their responses based on how they personally view the issue at hand.  Of course the slave owner wants to go the long legal route, and the abolitionists want a revolution.  I told my son that these decisions to act actually happen all the time, although mostly on a much smaller scale, and generally I think it’s a person's education and character that dictate the response.  And wouldn’t you know it, I had an example from that day in the dental office where I work.  

Months earlier, an elderly woman came into the office looking to get dental work done on her fixed budget insurance that had to be finished by the end of the year.  It was November, so time was an issue, and the woman had a bad attitude (for whatever reason) so that was another issue. In fact, this woman’s children had taken her to so many dentists with bad results due to her nastiness that they just stopped taking her.  This woman (we’ll just call her “Ruth” for the sake of the story) was currently on her Z list of people willing to take her to appointments:  Like people who lived in her apt building, and people in therapy programs trying to redeem themselves by performing random acts of kindness, and homeless people looking for a warm waiting room…

In any case, Ruth ended up in our waiting room with her bad attitude trying to negotiate her dental work.  I know that everyone has a story, and I am a curious person, and I like to solve problems.  I was on it.  It took 3 hours (and my boss threatening to fire me if I didn’t seal the deal or get her out) but an exam happened, a treatment plan was made, and impressions were taken.  Ruth was getting dentures.  And the third cousin of the husband of one of Ruth’s kids who had been roped into taking her to this appointment was crying as she thanked us a billion times.

So here’s the thing about dentures, it’s not a 1,2,3 process.  There are 5 steps and the dentures have to go to a lab several times and we have limited control on when each step comes back from the lab.  Sometimes it’s a week, sometimes it’s a two or three, but if you want something done properly, you do it right, and that’s just the way it goes. Of course we explained this to Ruth in the beginning, and at every subsequent appointment, but people can’t remember everything, especially when they are 90.  So just like everyone else, Ruth would finish a step, and we would tell her we would call her when her case came back from the lab to schedule the next step.  And just like all the outraged people in history who had to act immediately for their cause, Ruth proceeded to call the office several times a day demanding to know where her dentures were.  The conversations would usually start out vehemently, and digress into personal details and nostalgia from many years ago.  Ruth was obviously lonely and her nastiness kept everyone at bay.  Sometimes we would explain about the lab a few times, assure her we would get back to her and hang up.  Sometimes we would just put her on mute until she petered out.  I don’t even know all the tactics my coworkers used, but she called sometimes five times a day, every day, so I know everyone spoke to her.  And when her case came back, we called her immediately and she came in for the next step, and the phone calls would continue, until one day they didn’t.

Honestly, at first I don’t think anyone noticed she wasn’t harassing us.  Maybe we all figured we individually got lucky and missed the call.  But then her case came back, and we called her.  No answer.  We left messages every day.  No response.   Maybe she was out of town visiting her kids?  It was the holidays.  The deadline for her insurance was looming.  We started calling several times a day.  We asked another patient who is her neighbor if he had seen her.  He said no.  Week two started with no response to our numerous phone calls.  We were worried. What should we do?  Well, as Thomas Jefferson once said, “Don't ask. Act! Action will delineate and define you.”  It’s all about character.

It was Gabby, my coworker of immense character, who called 311 and 911 and the police ended up doing a wellness check on Ruth.  Apparently they had been called to her apartment on more than one occasion due to various complaints, but they were able to ascertain that Ruth had gotten sick and was convalescing in another facility.  Omg!  We were all so relieved. The visions we all had of Ruth laying helplessly on her kitchen floor instantly vanished!  And pain in the ass as she is, Ruth is on the mend and will be gracing our presence with her impatient nastiness once again.

You may be wondering what annoying Ruth has to do with fighting for injustice, but to me, it isn’t about Ruth.  It’s about Gabby.  No, she didn’t break any laws to protest something, but she acted.  She did something she believed was the right thing to do, regardless of there being any benefit to her. We were all worried at the office, but only one person picked up the phone and made the call. It’s character.  Something that should be easier to come by. Thank you Gabby.

I told my son, its important to really think about the “hot button” issues in society.  Weigh out your responses. Educate yourself.   Do what’s right in the best way possible.  Be the change you want to see in the world.  You don’t have to start a revolution, but you have every right to support your feelings.  I asked him, “How many kids in the class raised their hand when the teacher asked if the abolitionist was a hero?”   He said, “Just me.” 

Real Friendship. Pass It On.

 First of all, this blog Is dedicated to a really cool kid named Mike.  It’s weird because he just turned 18 so is he really a kid?  Yeah. 

I've been friends with his mother Theresa/Terry/Terri/Teri/Tess since fourth grade, and that is how many times she’s modified her name since then.  We were really good friends as kids.  We were part of a group who stayed together in a special ed program.  It was the first years of the gifted program in our school district so it was kind of like an experiment.  They combined grades and added special programs and tried a bunch of different teaching techniques which were progressive and groovy back in the late 70s.  Then after diagramming sentences (which I totally love to this day and am way bummed it’s out of fashion), adding scraps to our compost heap in back of the school, and meditating for 15-20 minutes, we would go to each other’s houses and watch ELO concerts on PBS eating fluffernutter and banana sandwiches.  And it turned out, most of us stayed friends (with the occasional teenage fall outs and losing touch while navigating the whole adulthood process) and share a very special bond to this day.  In fact, we actually had a sleepover at one of our houses to celebrate our 50th birthdays, but I digress.

So recently, Theresa/Terry/Terri/Teri/Tess (I guess I will call her Tess now since everyone has for the past 25 years, but you know how old habits are) came to visit me from Sweet Home Chicago to my relocated residence in Brooklyn with her two kids, Mike and Blake, who are almost exactly the same ages as my two.  She wanted the kids to meet and do some fun NYC stuff, and of course my door is always open to her as is my guest room, couch, air mattress, fridge, and anything else she can find.  In typical Tess fashion, she made an itinerary filled with museums and parks, and places I’d never even heard of, covering just about every second of every day, and kudos to her kids for getting up early and following the plans.  Unfortunately, my kids were still in school (different winter break weeks) and I had to work a lot, but we made it work.  They did stuff without us, or just without me, and we got to hang out when I got home from work.  Of course the first night we found out on the subway into the city that our broadway show (which everyone had miraculously agreed on) was cancelled due to Covid, but we rolled with it… or at least 2/3rds of us did, and bravely  veered from the itinerary to see something cool that didn’t make the cut, and we had a good time.  And we always had a lot of fun talking and snacking at home before exhaustively calling it a night.

As I mentioned, I had to work a lot during the visit. I know many people leave the headspace of their jobs when they walk out the office door , but when I get home from the dental office where I work, I am usually pretty ramped up and want to talk about my day.  The office is in the heart of south Brooklyn, with a nice mix of real Brooklynites, from the generations of old timers to immigrants of several generations, from all around the world.  All ages, basically salt of the earth city workers, teachers, college students, musicians, etc, with a plethora of experiences and personalities and at least one thing in common: no one wants to be at the dentist, and some days are just insanely crazy.  And I do like to tell stories.

 

Unfortunately for me, no one in my family really wants to deal with me when I get home from work.  Often it’s late, my family is winding down, and my energy level is way too high and way too annoying for them, so my crazy day stories go untold until I’m ready to burst.  But when Tess and her kids were here, Mike was a ready and willing audience, excited to hear about nutty Brooklyn, and I was ecstatic to oblige.

It really is something new and amazing almost every day at the office, so I happily regaled Mike with tales of patients physically fighting in the waiting room, dentures getting lost, altercations with insurance companies, power outages, patients losing touch with reality, staff being threatened, rudeness, and of course lots of cursing because after all, it is fucking New York City.  Honestly, these kinds of things happen every day, but most people don’t even notice.  It’s like when you live near the airport you just stop hearing the planes after a while, but even though I’ve lived in NYC for 22 years, I still see the crazy.  The absurd situations 

that couldn’t even be imagined as fiction.  Like the guy who came in with no appointment, sat in the waiting room menacing the receptionist and refused to leave unless we gave him $35, and after his negotiations turned futile, he peed himself and tried to bash in all the windows with a metal bar (two days ago). Seriously I had never called 911 until I moved to NYC. That day was my fifth phone call, my previous one reporting a van full of Rastafarians that flipped over right next to me on the Belt Parkway.

OMG, I had so much to tell, and Mike hung onto  every word.  He fell off his chair hysterically laughing several times, asked for details, and at one point declared he had to move here and work in the dental office to experience the spectacular insanity for himself.  He totally got it the way I do.   It was perfect symbiosis:  I had someone who wanted to hear my stories, and he got tales of unbelievable lunacy that knocked him to the floor.  And making one of my best friend’s kids laugh just filled my heart.

I didn’t get to see enough of my amazing forever friend Tess, and her kids Mike and Blake,  but I completely enjoyed really getting to know them.  They are both exceptional people, and I am so proud of my friend who used to come to my house and eat onion bagels with jelly and knock the same chrome lamp onto our green shag carpeting every time.

One thing I notice in the dental office is that money trumps people these days.  NYC is expensive, and people are piled on top of people so you end up constantly competing for everything, including  space.  It’s brutal and exhausting, but this visit reminded me that real friendships and laughter, and sharing your families is what makes life worth living.  Everyone has his own story and survival tactics in this world and who knows how off the charts their experiences have been, so I personally do my best to be kind whenever possible, and as my tattoo quotes the Dalai Lama, “It is always possible”, or at least most of the time in NYC.

So thank you Theresa/Terry/Terri/Teri/Tess for giving me you, Mike and Blake.  I know we didn’t see each other enough, but the love will always be there, for you and your amazing people that make my world better, and lots of other people’s now and later.  I wish we would have spent more time together, but truthfully I’m not getting up at 9am to ride the Staten Island Ferry… ever.

Now or Never

 So, I know it’s been awhile.  Sorry. I’ve been working 2 jobs and trying to watch every freaky documentary on Netflix and trying to hold informational seminars on cleaning the bathroom.  Plus there’s this whole power steering fluid situation with my car.  Like seriously?  WTF?  I didn’t know people actually purchased power steering fluid unless they were like racing down one of those empty canals with some chick in booty shorts standing in the middle of two cars waving a checkered flag.  And p.s.   I need an irrational amount of power steering fluid.  And p.p.s.  The guy at Auto Zone has zero sense of humor.  Like I go in there and ask him if I can just get any power steering fluid and he says it goes by the type of car you have.  He points to where it is and I jokingly say, “Well I guess I need a case if I’m going to keep this car.”  To which he replies, “We don’t sell by the case.”   So I say, “Well, I guess I’ll start with this gallon jug and see if I can make it out of the parking lot.”  Then he slays me by saying “$25”.  And that was that.  

So aside from frequenting Auto Zone and trying to parallel park with no power steering fluid, I made a decision to do something I haven’t done in a long time:  I quit.  Just one of my jobs.  Of course the easy one that gives great health insurance, paid holidays and vacations and never goes home with you.  Seems stupid, right?  Don’t be shy.  Countless people have told me how stupid that was, but I had to.  I just did. 

If you know me then you know.  If you don’t, I’ll tell you.  I’ve always been a 3D triangle trying to fit into a round hole. I get pigeonholed a lot for how I look, my quirkiness and my occasionally annoying exuberance. Very often people think they know what I believe, and think I make stupid decisions.  Yeah, I’ve had my share of fuck ups and I’m sure there are more to come, but I guarantee you that my intentions are deep and multi  dimensional and every so often actually planned out.  

So I quit this job.  I started this job because the hours fit around transportation for my children.  The benefits were good, there were nice perks, and it was in an elementary school and I get along pretty well with kids.  I’m one of those people who remembers not just school and childhood, but how I really REALLY felt at that time. I can put my 80s clogged shoes into these kids Yeezys, because it’s hard being a kid in ways grown ups tend to minimize because adulting is hard, and grown ups often tell children, “Enjoy your life   It gets so much harder and more complicated.”  And yeah, kids don't pay taxes and have to take shit from some assmunch at their job,  but there is so much pressure in school and all the social bullshit and expectations, that I bet you remember some stressed out incidents from fifth grade   At 17, people are literally trying to get you to commit to your future, more years than you’ve been alive, and aside from the limited life experience under your belt, your brain literally does not stop growing until you are like 23.

Anyway, the job was often fun, and then it wasn’t. Paperwork, stupid rules, rude people that mistake kindness for weakness and spoiled bratty kids who were allowed to be rude with no consequences.  I got to meet a lot of great kids   I taught manners at every opportunity, but I was essentially powerless to change anything, so I filed papers and did a lot of clerical stuff.   And even that was fun for a while, until it wasn’t   Until one day I figured out that if I stayed any longer I would be more motivated by money than anything else   This many more years to get some small pension and insurance… I would spend the majority of my 50s living my life for reasons that don’t motivate or excite me. I would be giving up me, and personally I want to live until I die   Not just get by.  I can still learn, I can still be fascinated, I can still laugh until I cry at something that hasn’t happened  yet   Not only that, I learned a few things on my journey thus far   And no, I’m not going to be that person who’s been there and done that and thinks they know the answer   But maybe I can ease some of the stress that in many cases can be toned down significantly. And I can keep learning, and feeling accomplished, and being proud of myself.

So I quit.  It was sad.  It was good.  It was time.  I’m onto my next chapter wherever that road may lead, and I’m proud of myself for not giving up and for taking the road less traveled.   

 

 

Now I Am 50

As I turn 50, it’s hard not to look back and reflect upon the life I have lived. As I try to wrap my head around how time seems to have travelled at warp speed, I wonder:  what have I done?  What have I learned that is worth knowing?  What do I have to pass on to my children?  As I journey through this milestone birthday, here are five things I have learned so far:

1.Take parent/child walks after dinner, one on one.  Be both. You get a renewed love and understanding of your parents when you become one. 

2.  Listen. You will be amazed at what you learn.  So will other people. 

3.  Expect everyone you meet to have something to offer, no matter age, race, gender, status.  Sometimes it’s bad. Sometimes it’s exceptional.  It’s worth the gamble. 

4.  Share your knowledge.  Empowering others is so much better than doing it for them. 

5.  Be kind.  Even when you are not feeling it. Even when other people are being jerks. It can be a challenge, but you never know when the simplest act of kindness can change everything. 

Of course I have gained many more insights.  Like,  it’s ok to fight for what you believe in, just understand there may be many battles and you won’t win them all.  Fortunately for me, my kids and I spend hours together in traffic every week, affording me ample time to espouse my knowledge between 80s tunes on the oldies station. 

I don’t know how many birthdays I will have, but hopefully I will be able to keep finding value in the life I live and pass it on.  

Septuagenarian Removed From Flight in Houston

Septuagenarian removed from United Flight in Houston

Seventy seven year old Ida Billing of St. Louis, MO was escorted off her United flight Sunday afternoon by Federal Air Marshalls.  United Airlines employees reported Ms. Billings as “combative and unruly” when she was asked by a flight attendant to return to her ticketed seat.

“I don't know what happened,” Billings told a reporter .  “I was in my seat listening to Frank Sinatra.  I was wearing headphones so I wouldn't disturb the other passengers, and this stewardess came up to me, pointed to my tray table and asked me if I wanted a treat.  I haven't been in an airplane in a while, but I have enough sense not to eat the food.   I shook my head no.  The stewardess looked kind of upset but I said I was fine. Then a man came over, showed me a badge and asked to see my ticket.  I showed him I was in 34E and my armrest said 34E.  The man got all fired up and tried to tell me I was in 34F, but I know an E when I see one, and I swear I saw one line with three lines attached!  The next thing I know they were taking me off the plane!”

Billings admits she had taken out her hearing aid to wear the headphones, and although she had brought her glasses with her, she had put them in a bag with her reading material. “I was planning to read the last Harry Potter book on the plane but they said it was too big for their carry on policy and made me check it at the gate for $25,” Billings said.

A spokesman for United insisted that Ms Billings was clearly trying to upgrade her seat for free. Although seat 34F is right next to seat 34E and was unoccupied, 34F has 2.75” more legroom, and thus considered a “Deluxe Economy Space Upgrade” with an additional $35 fee.

Billings, who was returning from visiting her grandson, a US Marine being deployed to Syria, was taken off her flight in Houston, and United says they are looking into flights to get her back to St. Louis by Thursday. A spokesman for United was firm in speaking about the incident,  “People can't just sit wherever they want!  The next thing they'll want Is to sit In the cockpit!  Or free meals!  And we are certainly not about to let that happen!”

Bucket List

Bucket List

It's a new year!  Time to review all the awesome things you did… or meant to do.  Reassess your bucket list, because having a bucket list is a “thing.”  

Actually, did you know how the bucket list started?  If you said, “That movie with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman, you are right!  Seriously!  In 1999, writer Justin Zackham was thinking about all the things he wanted to do before he kicked the bucket, and viola!  He coined the term bucket list and wrote the screenplay for the 2007 movie!  Not only that, but he inadvertently named the concept that many people had been thinking about.  Justin’s “bucket list” made it into main stream vernacular, AND the dictionary!  How cool is that??

In any case, I would need 100 pages to get into my bucket list, but for brevity, I'd like to share with you three of my more universal hopes for the coming year and beyond.  Not everyone wants to go bungee jumping, but here are some ideas you may want to try:

1. Conquer a  fear.   I never really thought about it until I texted my bff one day and asked her what was happening.  She said she was about to go on stage at a concert and sing!  What???  I've know this woman from Brownie day camp and I  didn't know she sang.  Turns out she had being taking lessons in an effort to conquer her fear of singing!  Admirable, to say the least.  For work I had to overcome the whole stage fright/public speaking thing, and oh what a feeling it is to get past one of your mental roadblocks!  The sense of pride and accomplishment are overwhelming, and unforgettable.  Go for it!

2. Go somewhere you've always wanted to go.  My dad’s dark features always made him look Greek.  Plus he loved wearing Greek fishing hats and drinking ouzo after a nice lamb chop and slice of baklava.  I always just assumed my dad would go to Greece someday and declare himself home!  I think he did too, but he never did.  I went to Greece a few times, and I absolutely know he would have loved it, but there was always some closer, cheaper place to go and a broken appliance.  In retrospect, the dishwasher can wait.  My dad should have gone to Greece.  Period.

3. Learn to appreciate your life.  I understand this is not a typical bucket list item, but I think it's important, difficult, and life changing.  It takes a lot of reprogramming to filter out life's annoyances and inconveniences.  For some reason we expect things to work out, and complain ad nauseam when they don't.  Somehow it's human nature to focus on the roof leaks rather than the roof.  Retraining and repetition can get you to the place where you appreciate going out to eat rather than bemoaning the wait time.   I'm not saying be oblivious to problems, but I am saying give more value to non problems.  It isn't about the people who blew off your party, it's about the people who came.

As I said, I could fill a book with all the things I want to do before I kick the bucket:  learn Spanish, write a book, go on safari…. And everyone's bucket list is different. I think the main objective of our bucket lists is to make us feel good about ourselves, and once we get started, there is no stopping us!

Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

So it came again.  The anniversary of the moment I lost you.  I used to love August because it was your birthday month, and it is so cool how you were the 6, Bryan is the 6, and Carina is the 6.  Now it just makes me sad because honestly, August 4, 2005 was the worst day of my life.  You always joked that you would never make it to the retirement age of 65, and you were right, but damn, you were so close.  Mom had a big surprise party planned and everything.  You would have liked it.  Jim and Cathy were coming, and Bill Froelich, and lots of people you really liked.  They all ended up coming anyway, but it was hardly the same.

Thank you for waiting to get your new  heart valve until after my wedding.  I know you scheduled the surgery thinking there may be complications and you didn't want my wedding to be affected.  I love looking at my wedding pictures with you in them.  You always loved a good party, and that definitely was one.

I have to tell you that I miss you every single day.   Every day.  I never wanted to live in this world without you.  You were the one person that always understood me.  Even if my logic was flawed, you got where I was coming from, and you could explain alternative thinking.  When I talked, not only did you listen, you comprehended my intentions.   Almost no one can do that on a regular basis, but you could, always.

There is a saying I like that goes, “It's not what you say, it's how you make them feel that they will remember.”  You always made me feel protected, and loved, and understood.  And there are a few things you said to me that I will always remember.  Once you told me that the people in the world you should respect the most and be nicest to are your family.  When you are in tough times, it's your family that will always be there for you.  Another time you told me that if you can do something that will make another person happy, do it.  It may be a bit out of your way, or not even, but it will mean so much more than it costs you to do it, be it time, money, or whatever.  And you told me I didn't suck as a teenager.  I apologized for my atrocious behavior, and you were like, “I loved your teenage years!  You and your friends were so funny and silly.”  Although we were the only ones that thought it was funny to put sangria in the punch at an eighth grade Halloween party.   I remember you told Michelle's mom that Sangria isn't really alcohol.   She never got less pissed, though.

You also taught me so many things…. The basics like throwing from third to first.  How to catch a firefly, and the best way to counteract nastiness is with kindness.  People taking the low road get bootprints on their face.  You are the on,y person that ever made the surly bartender at Carlos Murphys like you.  He was determined to hate you, but he couldn't.  I mean you bought him a Christmas present!  You were impossible to dislike.  I think half my boyfriends dated me just to hang out with you, and I was lucky enough to marry a man who loved you dearly and loved hanging out with you smoking cigars and drinking scotch.

The day you died, I wanted to die too.  I would have given my life for yours, even though you never would have wanted that.  I know it's horrible to say but I remember being willing to trade my baby for your life.  I don't know if I could have done it, but it was impossible anyway.

I remember when the lines went flat on the heart monitor when they disconnected everything.  I had given my baby to a transgender nurse and I remember thinking how ironic that was since you were just starting to understand that people are people and sexuality is irrelevant.  She was kind and nurturing and she rocked my baby on her hip while the family watched your physical body turn off.  I looked up.  I've seen tv shows and read stories about people hovering over the room when they died, so I looked up, and I told you I loved you, and I thanked you for being my dad.

So today, on the eleventh year anniversary of that horrible event, I went to the beach.  It was a beautiful day, and a took my beautiful almost twelve year old daughter with me.  I wish you could see her.  She is so beautiful, and cool, and quirky like me.  At one point, she took my  hand and said, “I think your dad would have liked you to be at the beach today.  It makes you happy and I know he would have wanted you to be happy.”  She is compassionate, your granddaughter.  You would really love her.

I went into the ocean, and I read in a beach chair.  Bryan came with my little one and Mark’s dad was there, too.  We were a family at the beach, and it was good.  If you were there, we would have had a cooler of contraband beer and possibly a thermos of Captain Morgan, and you would have played in the ocean with my kids, flown kites, and taken a siesta under the sun.

I miss you, Dad.  I miss you everyday.  I try to pass on the many good things you taught me: empathy, and kindness, and honesty and helping people.  There are so many stories and anecdotes about you that I carry with me always.  Sometimes I have dreams that you are still alive, then I wake up in tears.  I guess if I could just tell you one last thing, it would be thank you again.  You made me feel valuable, loved, understood and protected.  I can only hope to be half the parent that you were.  Thank you, Dad.  Really.  Thank you.