Thanks for the Holes

I was unable to procure substitute work for the day so I was able to watch the inaguration festivities ushering President Obama into the Oval Office. While I did not vote for President Obama I want nothing more for him to do a great job, help unite our country and lead us out of our current situation. When the National Anthem was sung at the ceremony my Dad popped into my thoughts. I thought of my Dad and how he would be interested in this event. My Dad was a man who loved our country's founding principles and who actually got out there and worked for ideals and people he believed in. A constant throughout my Dad's life was his dedication to the ideals he held dear. After he retired he worked on two campaigns to unseed longtime incumbent (R)Congressman David Drier and put in local businessman Sonny Sardo. I recall reading some of his letters to David Drier. While respectful and mostly polite, my Dad did not mince words when it came to his beliefs.

It's been awhile since we lost him, yet strangely there are times where I just don't know where to put his death. The trite old saying is true; time does heal, however things will never be the same. There is a bittersweet memory of Dad that lingers and he pops into my thoughts out of nowhere. I see a can of potato soup at the market and there he is. Potato soup was one of his specialties. That was so good...especially on a cold night.

There are times where I still shake my head and ask "what happened"?

From apathy to anger, the first year or so after he passed brought with it a bunch of emotions. Some of those emotions I'm just starting to identify. That time was a kind of "hanging on". Autopilot was often the name of the game. The notion that my Dad and our family was cheated has been replaced with the acceptance that death is a part of life and as trite as it sounds, we must make our best effort to appreciate the simple things, quiet all the BS around us and demonstrate our appreciation to those we love and care about.

We weren't cheated. We are blessed.

My Dad was a good father. I could go on and on, but quite simply he made holes for me and got me out of quite a few self-made holes......

My enjoyment of the dirt and mountain trails must be in my genes. When I was about 3-4 years old, my Dad noticed that I enjoyed playing around the dug up landscaping of our home in Sierra Madre. What kid doesn't like the dirt? I asked and he dug me my very own hole. Hours of entertainment! Like most good fathers he did his share of pulling me out of holes and various foibles.

Thanks Pop. We love you always!


From left to right, up to down:

Helping at Uncle Roy's house. Dad doing summer yard work, The original hole, Off to Montessori School w/ my older brother Erick...nice pants, A boy and his very own hole #2


Oh, I had a very enjoyable run tonight. I ran 6 miles up into the Hahamonga Watershed and felt strong and sickenss free. It was fun.