When I was five years old, on a fine summer Sunday morning, my father and I went for a walk on a dirt road in the woods. I had on my yellow striped polyester shirt and matching yellow shorts; he had on his straw fedora and plaid shorts. He would hold my hand, and when he saw something of interest, he would bend down and point it out to me. Nothing remarkable happened, but it was memorable in ways that grown people have flashbacks of their childhood; of simpler times.
I spent this weekend at Lake Erie with my in-laws. It was equally tranquil and had the same effect. With nothing to do but have wine and cheese, stare at the lake and enjoy lengthy conversations, I couldn't ask for a more delightful weekend. It's nice to know that simpler times aren't always in the past.
I couldn't share my birthday with two more wonderful men. Happy Father's Day Gilbert and Jim!
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