Sunday: (06/19) Today is Father’s Day. I usually don’t pay much attention to any holiday. We tend to celebrate holiday’s mostly on a convenient day before or after the actual holiday by going to dinner. The convenient day is a day when the crowds are less. I don’t remember much about my fathers early years. We never talked much. My brother, however, fortunately does remember more than I. Here is is blog.

A excerpt from my brother Ernie’s blog where he is doing a series on holidays:
Author’s Note: My father was born in 1893 (yes, you read that date correctly, 1893) in Buffalo Wyoming. He was the youngest of 8 brothers (and one sister who died in infancy of Rheumatic Fever). He was a camp cook’s assistant on one of the last overland cattle drives from Buffalo the Cheyenne in the early 1900′s. He enlisted in the Army during WWI in 1917, but never went overseas. He was married and divorced in the early 1920′s (I have two half-nephews who are older than I am). He went to work for the Post Office, and in the mid-1920′s, he migrated to Bakersfield California after his divorce, where he was a postman until he retired in 1959. Other than that, I know very little about him.

If I have one regret in life, it is that I wasn’t closer to my father. Many people find it hard to communicate with their parents because of the “generation gap”. Well, we had a “double generation gap” – he was 54 when I was born. I could have learned so much from him –not only about his family history but about what life was like at the beginning of the 20th century. I had a running joke with him about that. My least favorite subject in school was History. He used to say that History was his favorite subject…to which I would reply, “Yes Dad, but  there was so much less History to memorize when you went to school.”
If one of your parents is still alive, I urge you to sit down with them and talk about what life was like when they grew up…and, the sooner the better. You’ll be amazed at the insights they can provide – about the society, the politics, and the technology of their era.
My father died at home with my mother at his bedside, in January 1980.

I really should have paid more attention. I tend to limit my thought s about my father to his birthday and to the occasional mailman sighting.

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