A sad time for us: my dad died February 14th, St. Valentine's Day.
He remains for me a magnificent man, a winsome, engaging, good-humored loving father, grandfather, husband--with a heart of love for God, overcoming so much throughout his life: his brave service as a Corpsman with the 1st Marines in WWII (Peleliu & Guadalcanal), and before that, as a boy of 13, his mother's early, tragic death by her own hand. We miss him enormously--we realize he's now with the God he yearned for.
For now, here above is a fuzzy photo from around 1948-9--we'll try to scan others over time--& especially some capturing his joy at golf!
Allison today found something we wrote just a few years ago, about Dad:
"He's never seen our new place: the blue, grey, green glints of granite ledge peppering the woods behind our house--or the walk down to the bright sea, the waves wheeling where Milk Island juts out from the Saratoga marsh near the seawall. Dad's never been to the beach there with us, with the kids darting in and out of the surf, throwing themselves down to the warmth of their beach towels to rest. I've ever told him how much their eyes, and skinny legs, and laughter in the seabreeze all remind me of his--how much my own fingers brushing sand from their hair remind me of his hands and constant love--or how the blues and greens and greys of the ocean, and of the granite ledge all around us, remind me of his hazel eyes, always..."
