So, you may have noticed that, compared to some other bloggers, I don't exactly wear my heart on my sleeve, metaphorically speaking. Sure, you know how I feel about a lot of socio-politco-economic issues, as well as things, like guns, books, movies, and so forth, but... Not a lot of "My lumbago is acting up again" or "The neighbor used his leaf blower to shoot all the debris into my yard."
I've never been real forthcoming about the personal stuff. Not so much anymore, but there was a time I'd go along, not so much to get along, but more because if I said "I'd rather not do that", I'd have to explain what I'd rather do, and why. And, perennial member of the social awkward squad that I've always been, there were times when opening up to that extent was painful. Literally.
So if I normally refer to my wife as "Mrs. Drang", and (perhaps especially) if I rarely talk about my parents or my sister, and usually only in passing, it's not because they mean little to me. It's partly because it's personal, and nobody's business--not what I ever did or do have any intention of blogging about--and partly because, for a guy who likes to think he can string words together pretty well, there are some things I just don't express well.
So, for today, Dad, if I never told you what you mean to me, if I never thanked you for all you have given me and done for me, it's not because I'm not profoundly aware of it every day. I can never hope to repay you the debt I owe you, other than by trying to be half the man you wanted me to be. (!)
Happy Father's Day. I love you.