Today would have been my dad's 85th birthday. He died almost 5 years ago.He and Mom adopted me when he was 35, which probably explains why he always seemed to be tired. But he meant well, and I believe he did the best he knew how to do at raising me and my sister.
He was a child of the Depression, and that steered his approach to finances all his life. He and Mom were known for their frugality (Christmas trees should never cost more than $5, for example), and they always lived below their means. He did like to travel, though, and he took me on my first "big" trips, to D.C., Yellowstone, and Glacier National Park. Cheapness and a love of travel are at least two of his traits that rubbed off on me.
During World War II, he protected Alaska from attack. I guess he did OK, because Alaska is still there. I suspect the greatest hazard was terminal boredom, but he survived.
After nearly 80 years of spiritual apathy, he came to faith in Christ, a year or two before he died. I'd been praying for him for 30 years.
I'll see him again.
