Today is our dad's birthday. If he were alive, he would be in his seventies and most of his kids would still not be speaking to him. Or he'd not be speaking to us. Either way, my dad did not become a saint because he dropped dead. Dad dropping dead just gave us the freedom to explore the first part of our lives without the fear that any clarity or compassion would come back to haunt us when dad acted like the dad we knew. Or did not know. Dad being in his seventies makes us in our forties and looking at things as a 45 year-old is much different than looking at things as a 15 year-old.
*Dad on his 29th birthday in 1965, from mom's scrapbook.
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