Gratitude 


I am grateful for my Dad. He has been the example I follow for many things in life, not the least of which is being a father myself. He’s a guy who knows how to love the cuss out of his kids, even when they, nor the rest of the world, aren’t making that easy. Knowing this makes it apparent to me what I’m supposed to do, or at least try my best to do, like he did, every day.

I am grateful to live in a time when being a dad means more than it has on a wider social level in this culture than in previous decades. Don Draper missed out on some good moments with his children, I’ve gotten to have them with mine.

I am grateful for my grandfathers, and their fathers, and so on.

I’m grateful for cards From my boys this morning.

I’m grateful for a terrific day Julie put together for me. I enjoyed the breakfast buffet at the Fireside Grill, a bike ride around part of the airport, steak and grilled veggies for dinner, and peanut butter cookies.

The cherry on top of all that, though, was a tour of a functioning Boeing B-17 bomber that’s here in Victoria for a few days. It’s some kind of machine, with an unimaginable history. 

My paternal grandfather enlisted in the US Air Force, and became a flight instructor for these aircraft during World War II. He was based in Ft. Worth, Texas for most of this time. I can’t help but wonder if he may have flown this aircraft. That’s unlikely, but I also wonder about the chances he instructed someone who did. Seeing it up close, imagining seeing this airplane as he might have then, was a real trip today.

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