Lost my Dad June 4th of this year at 425 AM. I was holding his hand as he took his last breath. I will be honest and say I am not handling it great. I miss him immensely every single day. When I moved home, I bought his house and he lived with us. I am forever grateful for the time my boys got to spend with him. I have been sorting through his stuff which seems to make my feelings come out more. The only "good" feelings I have are cataloging his guns and the couple hundred miles I've put on his Goldwing Trike listening to Johnny Cash and Elvis.

To know my Dad who literally grew up dirt poor had built such a legacy, acquired such wealth (financial, material, and more importantly in friendship) as a blue collar man has made me reevaluate my life a lot.

"Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, used up, worn out, bottle of Jim Beam in one hand and a .45 in the other, loudly proclaiming WOW-- What a Ride!"