He doesn't look a day over 79.

I remember a conversation with my Father, back when acting was my full-time profession.....

Actually, I need to start with the conversation I had with my Father when I decided to leave the Midwestern College for a job in the theatre.  It was quick and to the point:

"Let me get this straight," my Father said.  "You're giving up a career....for a JOB?"

Then he gave a sigh of exasperation, and the silence that either meant assent, or surrender.

The conversation after that was based upon a very bad series of days I was having during a run in Kentucky.  I jokingly referred to myself as the "Black Sheep of the Family."  Keep in mind that my Father is an Mechanical Engineer, and both my Brothers are, for the most part, Accountants.

My Father's response?  "Your Brothers are both Accountants...that could make you the White Sheep of the Family."

He was kidding.  I think.

Yeah, I'm going to go with kidding.

My Father was there when the acting bug bit.  We were walking home from the Jr. High School, across the athletic field behind the school that separated it from the neighborhood in which I lived.  It was nightfall, it was October, and I was bouncing around with the elation that only comes with youth in the spotlight.

He said afterwards that his only thought was, "oh, CRAP."

But he never once told me to stop; never missed a performance he could get to.  Was pleased when I got a Master's Degree; was pleased when I went into teaching, and accepted when I stopped.

He gave me his trumpet when I began to learn it, back in the fifth grade; I kept that trumpet with me until just after high school, when I gave it back.  He gave me a bugle for my 14th birthday, and it still sits on the organ in the living room of the house.  I've often thought about heisting it, but thought better about it.

The man still thinks he has the power to ground me.  I would hate to challenge that authority.

He invited me to play in quartets with him.
He bailed me out numerous times when the Gods of the Automobile wreaked a terrible revenge.
He remembers every single stupid thing I have ever done, and regales crowds of people with the story at every.....SINGLE.....opportunity.
He taught me how to drive a standard, and drive a golf ball.
He sowed the seeds of my affection for Sherlock Holmes, Nero Wolfe and Huckleberry Finn.
And he always made pancakes on Christmas morning.


He turns 80 today.

Happy Birthday, Dad!