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Friday, 09 June 2006



Today I was going to put up a fathering post I'd written a couple days ago (tis the season), but instead I'm still working through some stuff from yesterday. I might throw it up there later, though.

Anyway, I have loved seeing Max surpass me. It's a little wistful sometimes, but mostly it adds to the old bursting heart phenomenon. I've also felt kind of lame at times, like when I absolutely cannot fathom what he's doing in math and chemistry. He tries to explain and my face goes all blank and I start drooling.

Interesting that you call it a "a father's ego" — food for thought there.


Thought provoking my friend. Very well said.


As a decrepit father takes delight
To see his active child do deeds of youth,
So I, made lame by Fortune's dearest spite,
Take all my comfort of thy worth amd truth;
For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit,
Or any of these parts, do crowned sit,
I make my love engrafted to this store:
So then I am not lame, poor, nor despised,
Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give
That I in thy abundance am sufficed
And by a part of all thy glory live.
Look, what is best, that best I wish in thee;
This wish I have; then ten times happy me!

Sonnet XXXVII, from good old Shakers- who was a father too.


It is a poor student who does not surpass their master.


Great story on the racquetball and squash Si, but the tales of Gypsy Lake, ; The One That Got Away, May 17/05; is a real eye opener. Being the first time I have read it, it literally brought tears to my eyes. I had always hoped that those trips would stay in your memories for the rest of your lives. They are chiselled in stone in my head. We must give thanks to the God of fishing; Zen; for introducing us to a life changing place such as Gypsy. As for the teaching of my grandsons in the fine arts of fishing and cussing, I will be there to lead the way. Maybe it is finally time to quit smoking. Thanks for the kick in the ass.


P.S. - Remember when the three of us would wrestle on the lawn until we were all exhausted. If you recall, that kind of roughhousing ended when Dad started loosing to his first born. I may be dumb, but I am not stupid.


Speaks volumes to me, that's for sure.

My dad taught me photography, and I continued it after leaving his house. I will never forget the first time he hung an enlargement of one of my photos on his wall. It's still there.

I hope, like you, that I pass things on to my son at which he can (and wants to) excel.

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