Time, you vex me.  You elude me like a child playing tag.  I zig, you zag, you bob, I weave.  No matter how well I treat you, you always leave.  They say you are like sand in an hour glass, but here in Mudville, you are like the West Texas sand blowing in the wind.  How can anyone fathom that you are cruel, when it is with exuberant joy that we drink from every second we share with you.  Some would deem you cruel for the manner which you hide your scheduled departure from each of us, but as has been said about life; one should not cry because life (or time) is gone, celebrate that life (or time) was here at all!  CELEBRATE!  Enjoy the moment!  Carpe diem!  Strike while the iron is hot!  There is no time like the present!  Why put off until tomorrow what can be done today?!  Each and everyone of these cliches is prodding us to take the opportunity that is before us while we can.

And so I do.

I call my son and I call my daughter and I've even been better about calling some of my siblings.  I spend time with my mom, but I don't just spend time with her; I strive to amuse her.

This morning we were each doing our own morning "get ready for the day" dance.  She comes in with her sweat suit on for therapy and she is asking for help with her sleeve.  The liner gets twisted and she can't get her arm all the way in to the sleeve.  I turn her around and straighten her jacket, then I ask her to hold her arms out like she is on a cross.  Gullibly, she holds them out without thinking and at that point I tickle her ribs and she squeals.  A cute little girl squeal with just a  faint hint of laughter erupts from her lungs.

It is all I need.  I hope it makes her morning.  With that being accomplished it is off to the routine....with a smile on our faces.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks ago, Mom and I were invited to a St. Patrick's Day party.  It was hosted by a few fellow catholics (who have been hosting this shindig off and on for forty years).  We went, we mingled, we had a beer or two (or three or four), we took some photos and I got to hear a few stories about my dad from people who knew him from forty years ago.  One gentleman was telling me about the first time he met dad at a church volleyball outing.  He spiked the ball on my dad's head and my dad asked him if he wanted to fight.  Yep, sounds just like my dad.  I got a laugh out of it and got to meet some nice people.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Time, I steal my moments with you.  Little moments when no one else is looking.  We flirt, we laugh we just relax with one another.  Nowhere to be, nothing to do, just the two of us enjoying each other while we can.

Senior moments and scallywags

I am now finishing up my fourth year back in Mudville, having come back to help care for my mom, and some of the moments we share from day to day are just so funny that I can't help but laugh. At the same time it is these very moments that make me feel just a bit sad having to watch my mom go through them. It is part of life though and we cope as best we can.

Recently we were getting ready to leave the house early on a Monday morning. I was scooping up the last of my junk I carry on a daily basis and mom was already headed for the car. I was turning out lights and making my way to the front door and I get there to find her trying to unlock the front door with her keys.....

....from the inside.

There is no key hole on the inside, just a deadbolt. I am grinning like a Cheshire cat, speechless, just grinning. I reach past her and turn the deadbolt and let her out. I lock the door behind us as we leave and take her to her physical therapy session. Once I get to the office, I email my sister to relay the funny moment.

The worst part about this whole situation is knowing full well that my mom, having to endure this natural aging process and the onset of forgetfulness and confusion, is now very vulnerable to my two less unscrupulous brothers who share her home with her. She may be sweet and kind and generous, but that doesn't mean that they won't use it to their advantage. How one would take advantage of the same little old lady who opens her home to you is beyond me.

Another day and another adventure.

Long time coming....

Has it really been this long? Where have I been and what have I been doing to keep me from my duties for so long? Why such a substantial break in the posting of the pleasantries?

Pull up a chair, grab a cold one, sit down and let me tell you all about it.

Since the 1st of September of last year, we have seen my children come and go a few times, my mom travel to Florida to meet her sisters, an entire rugby season pass by, a complete bathroom remodel, a puppy pass and a new year start.

Mom met with her sisters up in Michigan for a wedding and again down in Florida for a week on the beach. That is (from left to right) Betty, Bridgit, Bonnie and Bubbles. Some sweet ladies. Wish I could hear the stories they have to tell. From growing up in the North, migrating to Texas, marrying and scattering, raising families and becoming empty- nesters and grandmothers; I'll bet they have loads of great memories to share. I have interviewed Betty once (to be posted still), and would love to interview the others as soon as I get the chance. However, geography works against me, in that regard.

I am told that they had great visits at both locations, playing games, having a stiff drink and swapping laughs and memories well into the nights.

Thanks to my incredible sister and my goofy brother for helping my mom get to see her sisters.

On a more somber note, Rucker the puppy got out of the yard and wound up on the bad end of a collision with a car. He now rests under the front tree with my boy, Brutus. It made for a sad weekend, but life goes on and we have. He will be missed, though.

The new bathroom looks great. Pictures of the process are in the works. And the rugby season has come and gone. The Bard sings about it elsewhere, but for now, suffice it to say, we went 3 and 7 and fared okay with plenty of room for improvement and some new faces.

That's it for now. See you in a couple.

I looked for you all morning....

....but you're just not there.

Every now and then I remember when

those times we shared, we cared, we dared.

And even though you're not here

I see you in my mind so clear.

Most days it brings a smile, some days a big ol' tear.

As this crazy life keeps keeping on

and we all dance to our own song,

I find myself searching this crowded throng

of people for a glimpse of you....

a glimpse of you....

a glimpse of you....

a glimpse of you.

I don't want mounds of silver and gold.

I don't want heaps of treasures untold.

I don't want to drive a big fancy car.

I don't want to travel either near or far.

I don't want to try to hang the moon.

I don't want to be called home too soon.

I don't want to conquer this world.

I just want my little boy and my little girl.

I just want to shake my dad's hand,

hug him tight and say, "I understand."

I just want to share a beer

with my friends who can't be near.

I just want a little more time

to spend with you....

to spend with you....

to spend with you....

to spend with you....

to spend with you....

What I Want

by stu pidasso

1Sept2010

I find my kids come and go as they please like a....

Bumblebee

by stu pidasso

16July2010

Oh, you damned bumblebees!

You flit, you dart, you come so close

with your humming, buzzing melodies.

Then you disappear like a ghost

You catch my eye

as you fly by.

I follow your every move.

Your dainty, deft dancing

is beautiful, I must confess.

The way you seduce each flower

in your black and yellow dress

should be a crime

in any one's time,

but we all love your groove!

Yes, my sweet bumblebee,

You, solely have grasp over this father.

I will watch you from glen to lea,

so as to admire my wonderful daughter.

I'll offer up my hand,

on which, for you to land.

I swear I will not move.

Statuesque, I will stand,

even if stung by she whom I love!

I will endure, as is planned,

by The One sitting high up above.

I will play my part,

until your heart

is given to a man to lose.

So fly away, oh bumblebee!

Seek out each and every bloom!

Take in all that this world can offer thee,

then come home to rest, I have the room.

I will stay steadfast,

here until the last,

patiently awaiting to hear news of you.

I dreamed about dreaming while sitting at work

Trancing
by stu pidasso
14June2010

I stare into my coffee cup
Vivid mental images in my head
Days gone by or days wished to be

Hand sketches and vendor blueprints
piled like pick-up sticks on my desk
waiting patiently for attention to details

Hodgepodge of school portraits and paperclips
pushed from reach into the corners
beckoning for a touch or spare glance

But my mind flip flops, cartwheels, barrel rolls
through space and time to other dimensions
ripping at the fabric of present day reality

a summer day in mountains at a boy scout camp
an autumn morn in piny woods watching deer
a winter train trip to Virginia for a Xmas holiday

I see my kids in everything around me
I dream about the "what if"s and the "if only"s
I long for time and opportunities to come again

but reality strikes back hard
The Boss says, "Don't screw it up this time."
I let her paint a room and he gets to go zoom-zoom

Driving lessons and house repairs
two teenagers with summer jobs
an evening cooking a meal together

it isn't slaying dragons or riding unicorns
it isn't scaling redwoods or the Himalayas
but it is moments together, shared and enjoyed

life may be slower than I dream
but it sure is sweet when dreams come true
a movie and doing dishes sure can make me smile.

I can't keep it in any longer...

Incomplete
by stu pidasso
25May2010

Its as if I have
a phantom limb.
It haunts me.

I can feel it,
but I can't see it.

I get tingles
as if fingers are
traipsing
back and forth.

I can smell
the sweet aroma
of the flesh.
So close I can
almost taste
the perspiration.

I can hear
the scritchity
scratch
of fingernails
across skin
far to dry.

If I were to be
pinched,
would I feel
it?

If I slept
too long
in the sun
would it burn?

I feel as I have
lost a limb,
but it was my
family,
and I just don't feel
like me anymore.

Helping to "publish" a friend's long past work...

UNEMPLOYMENT

by HGW III

Sausage sizzling on the grill,

Hash brown potatoes, hot corn pone,

Hungry men consume their fill,

Remembrance of a country morn.

Biscuits floating in a sea of gravy,

Like ships of Nelson's navy;

Cups of black coffee steaming,

Idle oilfield workers dreaming.

Now the sun has chased the dark,

The air is warm and sky is bright;

The idle men go to the park,

There to sit and wait the dark.

Note: the picture is random, of an oil worker, from East Texas. As always, work on this site is original and subject to all copyright laws.

At this late state I'll hesitate to meditate, so please don't wait...

Gone Fishing.

Might return.

Dare to soar with the eagles

Most young men fight with their fathers, off and on, throughout their lives or at least at one point or another. Some of these relationships are more turbulent than others, but for the most part it is pretty common among all father/son relationships. My son is having his problems these days with the resident "father figure" in his home, just as I had mine with my father. We'll get back to my son, Miles, though.

The way my major argument with my father played out is very similar to what my son is dealing with right now. It boils down to a difference of opinions over priorities. When I turned fifteen back in high school, I was still involved in boy scouts. My father was a scout, my older brothers were all scouts and my younger brother was a scout. In fact, my father, my older brothers and my younger brother were all Eagle scouts, the highest rank you can achieve in scouting. Between them all, we had eight eagle scouts in the family. I would have made the ninth. The problem was that it was not a big priority to me.

The reason for that was that at the time I had found something else that captured my attention. Soccer was the thing that held my waking moments. I enjoyed soccer, I excelled at soccer, all I wanted to do was to play soccer and I was good at it. I ended up getting college scholarship offers to play. But my father wanted me to be an eagle scout. He even gave me an ultimatum. Finish your eagle scout or you will never set foot on a soccer field again.

So much for that. I still play soccer, but didn't finish my eagle scout. All my brothers let me know about it too. But I have to say, looking at the way some of my brothers have turned out (being eagle scouts and all) I am not so sure that being a member of the "eagle scout" group is all it is cracked up to be. Don't get me wrong, I know that I messed up. I know that if I could go back and change it, that I would finish that eagle work and get my rank. I know now that it would have been a small task that would have meant the world to my father and most of my brothers. For if I had gotten my eagle, we would have had nine eagle scouts in one family. That would have set the world record for eagle scouts in one immediate family. We would have gotten to go to Washington and meet the President. It meant a lot to my dad and I torpedoed it right out of existence. Never to be done.....ever.

Well, it took over twenty years to get over that fight, but my father and I worked past it. I am not sure how he let it go, but he did. I just wish I could get it and show him I got it.

Hind sight really is twenty-twenty.

So, now back to my son. He is wicked sharp. Sharp enough to not study and still ace his tests in school. And as much as I and his step father tell him his grades count for a lot, he doesn't feel the need to focus on them. I now how my dad tried to communicate with me to get his ideas across and they didn't work too well. So I am trying a different approach to my son. I hope it works.

It would depress me to know that he had the same regrets that I do later in life over a failed communication. So to all you dads out there, don't give up. Keep talking to your boys and love them no matter what. I know I am going to do so.

old news posted way late....

So I told you I was behind and that I was working on clearing that all up. So here is the first post of what we did over the course of the summer.

I had both kids for the summer and when my wonderful sister came down for the week, we took a trip to go swimming. Mom, Sis and I along with my two and sister's youngest piled in the car and drove two hours to this great swimming hole in the middle of nowhere.

We had a great time as the three kids swam to their hearts content. The swimming hole is a natural spring fed facility, a cool 68 degrees all year long. It is full of fish, which the nephew was catching with his bare hands, turtles the size of a hubcap (a large one at that). The pool also sported a high diving board and over two hundred yards of length. It is nestled in the foothills of the Fort Davis Mountains and a stone's throw away from the boy scout ranch where I grew up. Having lost my two best friends this summer and my lovely daughter being around for it, we carved their names in the bottom of the pool. It took us the better part of an hour to dive, carve, surface for air, repeat as required. Jerry Rheinlander and Brutus.....R.I.P. boys, you are missed.

I hope you enjoy the pictures as well as the music that accompanies them, as the song is what we did while there for the day.

Won't you come with me.....

Turk Murphy
Bob Scobey

....to tour old San Franciscy? We'll take a trip, to hear those men lip....

Ahhhh, 1955 and the jazz scene in old San Francisco was something to see back then...or so I hear in my mother's tales.

The year was 1955, late December. On the 18th, a +handsome young airman named Hugh wed a beautiful young nurse named Bubbles. They tied the knot and spent the night in the Houston area, then the next day started their trip west to California.

They stopped in Phoenix and spent the Christmas holidays with relatives. Somewhere between the 18th and New Years Day, Bubbles and Hugh conceived the first of many children.

After the holidays, they arrived in Sacramento, where the young airman was stationed to serve as a navigator in the USAF during the Korean Conflict. On weekends, the young couple would cruise down to San Francisco and catch the latest music shows and see the sites around the Bay. They would go to The Purple Onion or The Buena Vista. They would dance and drink and see musical phenoms like Turk Murphy or Bob Scobey.

When my mom started telling me these stories, I was pretty amazed. Not that they did it, but that my dad was so hep! I knew the guy could kick back or kick up his heels, but to take my mom to all the rad/mod/cool/phat hot spots was neat to hear about. Then my mom asked me to see if I could look some of it up on-line. Oh crap, I thought. This was going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack!

Wrong!

Within the first two tries, I had found info on all of it. Not only was it there, but these websites are done up nice (follow the links!). The Irish coffee that they used to drink there in the Northside Fishermen's district is still being touted as "THE original Irish Coffee" in America.

We are trying to find my mom's old records (what the heck is vinyl??), so she can listen to Bob and Turk again. I'll try to get some up here later for all of you to hear for yourselves.

All in all, a nice stroll down memory lane for me and my mom!

Cheers!

Catching up....

While we all know that life is hectic and we get pulled in so many ways that sometimes it is just mind-boggling; this summer has been exceptionally crazy. With all the projects, writing, travelling, home repairs, rugby chores, family visits and such going on, I just can't keep up sometimes. So I am trying to catch up and I'll be using some odd ways to put it all together in the coming weeks.

With the holidays quickly approaching, things will get a bit more log jammed than less, so I better get on it sooner than later. Now, where is that camera connection cord to download things to my computer???

Anybody else already feeling the time crunch leading into the holidays??

The Prize

First, let me say that the photo above is not our family, just there for your viewing pleasure.

Back Before I was born, my grandfather, Hugh G. Jr. (aka Red), used to compete in a lot of pigeon shoots. A pigeon shoot is a shotgun contests that involves freeing pigeons a few at a time and trying to down them with minimal shots fired. These contests were staged quite a bit and a lot of people participated. He was quite a good marksman, both with a shotgun and other firearms.

In one particular contest, he took first place and the award for his winning was a set of three matching Remington shotguns.

We still have them.

Many years later, after my grandfather had passed and the guns were handed down to my father, my father would take all of us boys hunting on a regular basis. My brother Danny was an exceptional hunter, as it would turn out. Out of all of us boys, he and my dad would compete more than any other pair for title of "best shooter" in the groups that would go hunting.

One season, as we got older, my brother Danny asked my dad if he could use the longest barreled gun out of the set (my dad preferred to use this gun). It was preferable because it gave the wielder a farther range to shoot at birds. Danny proceeded to fell every winged beast which made the mistake of flying within his range.

Afterward my father wrote a short story about that day and the three things he was left to ponder upon the unfolding of the day.

He was not quite sure which of the three stood out as the "real" prize that day. The twenty year old, valuable shotgun as a family heirloom; the 15 dove (that's your limit for one day) that my brother shot which included two triples (three shots and three birds felled) along with a Scottish double (two birds with one shot), or the sixteen year old son who had his dad grinning from ear to ear with pride and amazement.

I am sure we all know which was the actual prize.

Last weekend I went dove hunting with Danny again, and I stood there on that fence line next to a pecan orchard and felt closer to God than in any church I've ever been inside. We were teasing Danny about his ability to not only shoot dove fifty to sixty yards in the air, but also so far in front of him that they dropped in front of him in the orchard. He then proceeded to not only shoot another sky high dove but took half a step forward and almost caught the bird as it plummeted toward his feet. Show off! Sure made me smile.....and miss my son and my dad.

Fathers and sons, turn off your TVs and game consoles, grab your boys and girls and take them out into nature for some good old fashioned fun like our father's fathers used to have.

God Bless!

A Saturday well spent

So another weekend had rolled by and the October trip for my mom approaches quickly. My sister will be here tonight to help prep for the trip and then they will fly out on Wednesday.

But this past Saturday is what I want to talk about. I got the invite to go out hunting and so we all loaded up and made the trek south of town. There is a friend with a pecan orchard nearby and six of us rugby players took our shotguns and headed out in the early morn. We all got there and parked our cars out of the way. We talked some quick strategy and then walked less than a hundred yards to where we took up positions. As the sun slowly peeked over the horizon and the wee bit of chill started to ebb, the elusive dove started flying. It was not long before the sharp pop of scatter guns started to fill the air.

Six hunters ended up taking twenty birds. Not great but not bad as the dove were passing at a higher than normal height. Even then we got the occasional low flying birds to shoot at and even the high ones didn't stop us from shooting altogether.

Funniest part of the day was my brother popping a dove fifty yards high and watching it fall almost into his waiting hand. Had he caught it and had it been on video it would be a youtube sensation. It was cool just to watch. I, myself, took three birds with my gun (passed down from my grandfather) and I took all the 20 birds home with me. Cooked them up nice yesterday with a half a jalapeno and an apple slice, wrapped in bacon and grilled. Cheese may have put it over the top. Next time I'll take pictures and post them and the recipe.

I just wish that my son were there to enjoy the outing. This is exactly the kind of things that we are missing by being apart. Next time Miles (you too Vana if you want to go along).

And this link to a video is why I want my daughter to play whatever she chooses.

Was having a rough day and tried to put into words...

Today, please bring tomorrow

The sprinkler is weeping in front of my house, tears falling on the face of the lawn.

The grass is missing those little footsteps, now that my children are gone.

Yes, the sprinkler weeps underneath the old elm tree, casting shadows from above.

The playground toys are rusted and falling apart, time eroding them away like my love.

Blowing wind sounds like crying as it shakes the leaves off of the trees.

Shutters slam and thrash about, it's enough to knock you down to your knees.

Yes, the howling wind cries their names, across these wind swept plains.

It's ripping all that's wholesome away from here, like these nagging pains.

No kids swinging on that old tire, no innocent laughing in the wind.

No giggles to lift my spirits higher, feels like I've got no friends.

No piggyback rides, no slip and slides, no leap frog again and again.

No hide and seek, no "Don't you peek." No way to make amends.

Dark clouds cover the sun from shining down around here, a dark mood prevails.

Cold wind blows, chills to the toes, revealing my pain and all it entails.

Yes, blue northern raging quietly down, blanketing with cold this whole town.

Driving all the warmth we need away, just leaving me to frown.

The flower beds are bare and empty, no beauty to be seen there.

The ground is hard and weed strewn, from lack of loving care.

Yes, the garden is sad and fruitless, not a thing there to be found.

Without love to help it produce, it sits just like barren ground.

No kids swinging on that old tire, no innocent laughing in the wind.

No giggles to lift my spirits higher, feels like I've got no friends.

No piggyback rides, no slip and slides, no leap frog again and again.

No hide and seek, no "Don't you peek!" No way to make amends.

But spring is here again, mockingbird sings from the budding tree.

His sweet melody floods this yard, brings a slight smile to me.

Yes, the dawn of a new season comes, let God's creatures roam.

Bringing me sweet hope again, that my kids might still come home.

Grand kids swinging on that old tire, innocent laughing fills the wind

Giggles lift my spirits higher, I'm surrounded by my kin.

Piggyback rides, slip and slides, leap frog again and again.

Hide and seek, "No, I won't peek." I've been forgiven for my sins.

by stu pidasso

9October2009

The two days I die......

September tenth has come and gone
and again I'm reminded of how I went wrong.
Sixteen years and countless tears,
as I watch you grow from afar.
A strong young man with a smile so grand
and a future just waiting to be planned
I rue the things I chose to do
and how I made your mother blue
but what can an estranged father give
to his son to help him live
what gift would mean enough for him to forgive
Photos? Memories? Money or more?
the keys to unlock a sports car door?
A second chance? a fine romance?
A limo and tuxedo for a prom dance?
A dog to be man's best friend?
A family heirloom to cherish until the end?
Or just my time and a few rhymes?
Or authentic sorrow for my crimes?
Or no more than a birthday wish
that we get to chill while we fish?
Son, I know that I am not there
but I see your face everywhere
and I tear my flesh and rend my clothes
and beat myself with remorseful blows
as I miss you more than any and all knows.
The worst is that, as I get through this
tis not the lack of peaceful bliss
but knowledge that as this too shall pass
another day approaches fast
fourteenth of October brings again
the memories and pain of my sin.
And as most celebrate a birthday date
not seeing yall's is my torturous fate.

Lonely house again....

Ode to a Boy's Dog

A friend has left

and gone away

and taken with him

my sunny day.

My boy, Bru;

who has stood by

has run his course

and had to die.

I carried him out

into the yard

and said my goodbyes

oh so hard.

He will missed

there is no doubt

those loving eyes

and cold, wet snout.

I wear his chain

every day

to remind me now

he's gone away.

I hope that he

is up with dad

playing catch

and feeling glad.

And when, like him,

may race is run

I'll join them both

in heavenly fun.

stu pidasso

7August2009

Take a walk on the wild side...

Well, here we go again!! My split with my ex was no fun. Anyone who has been through it can tell you that, even if it is amicable, it is still no fun. It messed with my head for years and still does when I let it. But we move on and we pick up the pieces and try to glue them back together like some damn vase busted at a teen party when the parents are away. And if you look closely enough, no matter how good a job of gluing you do, you can always see the little cracks and flaws.



Well, when I went through my split I gave up some things that I thought helped contribute to the problem. One of those things I gave up, which was a big part of my life for many years, was coaching. I played soccer in high school, after high school, and before I met my future ex. I was persuaded to take up coaching to help young kids with no coach and I liked it. I had a way with kids. I met two great girlfriends through coaching and my ex, too. All three were drawn to the way I was comfortable around the kids.


After the ex left with our kids, coaching lost its appeal. Seeing other families functioning well just was a constant reminder of what I was missing. It made me uncomfortable and depressed. I walked away. After coaching kids soccer and competitive club soccer for the better part of sixteen years, I walked away.



Until last week.



Somewhere after the coaching ended, I started playing rugby again. Something about smashing someone else as hard as I could lended itself to my mental state. I got to be a single, athletic man again ; with athletic friends who liked to run, stay in shape, socialize, drink, cuss and spit tobacco together. I was actually enjoying myself in a group environment again without feeling the depression of having lost my family. It took my mind off the things that troubled me.



Last week, I was chosen to be the head coach of my rugby club. I am not sure how well I will do, but I am looking forward to giving it a go. I have been pouring over rosters and field line-ups and drills and coaching materials for seven days now. I am, as Mama Kat would say, giddy. If I can get the guys who I want to show up for practice, we have a good shot at going far in the league this year. It has been a while since I ran a team, but it feels good to think that I am not only up for it, but wanted for it by the guys I call my teammates.



Plus, I am old and hopefully I won't have to play as much while coaching.

I am a rock!!

I am a rock!
I am born from the cauldron of heat and pressure, both of which I have withstood and vanquished in my prosperity to be here for you.
I am solid. I will not move. I will not wince.

I will not duck for cover or run away at the first sign of trouble.
I do not speak, but if I could it would be to praise you not to chastise you.
I stay my ground so that you may judge your position by where I lay.
I shall not waver even as nature's forces try to push me out of their way or lessen me.
You may take shelter in the lea of me.

You may hold me to anchor yourself to weather any tempest.
You may use me in defence against your enemies.
I am the projectile to slay your Goliath.
You may skip me across pristine lakes for your own amusement (but it would be nice if you would dive for me and bring me back to shore).
You may singe me in your fires and use me to keep warm through the bitterest of cold nights.
You may use me to hold things down where you wish them to stay, so you may come back again later to find them still there.
You may chip and fracture me to use me as a tool, for I am here for you.
I am your rock and for you I will roll, no matter where you wish me to alight.
Yet, if you paint a silly face on me, I will be your pet.
Rest assure that I am your rock and will be until time erodes me away.
With love, your father.