wow...where has the summer gone. crazy. the highest of highs and some really deep lows. life can serve you some nasty shit sometimes, but can also mainline clear, shimmery elation right in to your soul. The photo updates to the right show some of that. the boat and the girl are both named parker. one of them is still with me and the other one is not. sometimes the landing should be a bit softer, you know. sticking the landing is one thing...eatin' shit is a whole 'nother.

my father died last month. he'd been battling cancer for a year, two kinds. it got pretty bad at the end, but fortunately he passed away at home, peacefully, with family by his side. there is probably more i could say, about how he held out with a clear mind and humor, but with a body that could no longer drink or eat...whithering, moving only when my middle brother michael assisted him. that was what michael had been doing for almost two weeks straight after my father was released from the hospital. doctors, when my father was in the hospital, said he only had minutes or days left to live and that he would not be able to leave the hospital. my father, strong as he had always been, convinced them otherwise and was released. how he held out for two more weeks so that many friends could visit, or call on the phone. holding out until literally the day after my oldest brother allan could fly up from miami for what both knew would be a final visit...i had visited two days prior and also had quite a normal conversation on the day my brother had been visiting. saying "i love you" to my father had become easy to say and was said often. anyway, i wrote the following and read it for a tribute memorial we held for my father on what was an amazingly beautiful summer day.

Morning

Morning...my father has woken my brothers and I before the sun has broke. It is winter, Christmas has passed and the New Year is coming soon. My father has already packed the car for our ski trip to Vermont. Later, along Route 89 heading North, my pillow propped against a frost car window, I dream of snowy slopes filled with family and friends.

Morning...my father and I are on our way to Dunkin Donuts. There, he will hold me up to the big window where I can wave to the powdery, smiling man making doughnuts. My father will let me choose the dozen doughnuts and carry the box: a chocolate, creme-filled doughnut that I will eat scientifically.

Morning...my father and I are on our way to a hockey rink, any hockey rink. He will coach me before the game or practice (stick, body, puck); he will watch me during the game or practice; he will be there for me after the game or practice, no matter what.

Morning...and this early, the lake is calm. My father is warming himself with his mother's old electric heater at his feet. It is Sunday in the summertime. Later, after church with mom, I will try to spot my father's sail among the many brightly colored sails moving across the water.

Morning...my father is showing me how to fold in the egg whites he's whipped by hand to make a waffle batter. My brothers are sitting at a table and there is an electric waffle iron in the middle. Bacon strips have been laid across the waffle iron and steam will soon be watched to know when it is time to eat.

Morning...my father and I are standing on a golf tee box. The grass is still wet from the morning's dew. Long shadows are cast from the sun's early angle. He will hit a golf ball a long distance and I will try to do the same.

Morning...my father is standing at the window of a small, seaside building that has a sign "Ugly Anne Deep Sea Fishing" above him. There are men organizing fishing rods and bait on the boats scattered within Perkin's cove. We will travel miles out to sea and reel strange fish up from the depths of the ocean.

Morning...and my father is gone. I share with you just a few memories I clearly remember. I have a lifetime of fond memories, mornings, days, and nights, and they are with me forever.