Happy birthday, MTB...

Dad & me in Central Park, NY, 1970
I'm not sure if they actually enrolled me or not

Today's my dad's birthday.

He's a whistler, my dad. Sometimes when he's coming down the stairs he whistles and drums a rhythm on his legs at the same time. That always makes me smile. He's known for funny comments and you can sometimes tell by his expression that he's got something witty cooking in his brain. He's an avid and diverse reader, often keeping several going at a time. He likes a good Diet Coke now and then and lemon meringue pie and devil's food cake with vanilla icing. He's a traveler.

A lot of this I got from him (except the witty and the rhythm). There's another photo that is still packed away that shows me as a 4-year-old, perched on the end of a raised bench and just about ready to jump into his outstretched arms. My face is lit up and excited and a little nervous. If you track my gaze over to his face, he has the exact same expression.

Happy birthday, Dad. And thanks for catching me still.

[note: resubmitted because somehow the picture got deleted from the entry]