dad.

yesterday you allowed me to brag about my mom for a little while. well today is my dad's birthday. it's an all out mom and dad celebration blitz. and i'm okay with that. here's a few tid bits about my dad, rich ray.

he's the funniest guy i know.

i mentioned yesterday that my mom is one of the smartest people i know. my dad is the other one.

he has been inducted into many different halls of fame.

dad is an avid hiker and has seen much of the appalachian trail.

he's the eldest of five boys.

he has made some questionable fashion statements in the past.

my dad is a published author of many textbooks. one of which is dedicated to me (and my brothers, but they don't count).

he's also a poet. he wrote this poem for me when i graduated from college:

"Front Steps"
I remember when you were born.
I remember your hand-the size of a half dollar.
I remember your picture taken on the front steps of the hospital.
I remember your sweet smiles and fussy nights.
I remember your mother's perm-frizzed hair.
I remember your father's Hawaiian shirt and too-short shorts.
I remember Mr. Reagan talking, finally, to Mr. Gorbachev.
I remember the gasoline that cost $1.18.
I remember your first birthday and the cupcake on your face.
I remember your Beanie Babies and Cabbage Patch doll.
I remember tea parties where you poured and we sipped with pinkies held high.
I remember the blanket you were getting too big to carry.
I remember your first day of school.
I remember your picture taken on the front steps of the house.
I remember your pink and purple backpack.
I remember your tears at the kindergarten door.
I remember the smile when your finger-painting was hung on the refrigerator.
I remember the first boy you noticed-and the first one that noticed you.
I remember your picture taken on the front steps before the prom.
I remember your mother thinking it was cute and sweet.
I remember your father thinking it was something else.
I remember your friends in high school.
I remember that some were cruel and knew you not at all.
I remember the Twin Towers crashing--and us with them.
I remember your worried look as you asked, "What comes next?"
I remember graphing calculators and number 2 pencils.
I remember your first day of college.
I remember your picture taken on the front steps of the dorm.
I remember your nervous smile on a hot August Friday.
I remember your mother talking more than usual.
I remember your father, more silent than usual.
I remember holding your slightly damp hand as you tried to think of 1,000 things at once.
I remember your face during our first mid-term talk.
I remember your first exam and the butterflies in your belly.
I remember you eagerly raised hand in class--and your catnaps.
I remember you asking yourself "Can I do this?"

Today you'll graduate and tomorrow
I'll remember your picture taken on the front steps of your cottage.
I'll remember your mother fussing over your cap and gown.
I'll remember your father, hiding his constant concern.
I'll remember your walk across the stage, trying not to trip.
I'll remember etching your name on the wall for all time.
I'll remember a hug and a promise to keep in touch.
I'll remember whispering in your ear "You'll have me always."
I'll remember worrying about you.
I'll remember being glad I was your father.
I'll remember the front steps of your life.

--Rich Ray

remember those "too-short shorts" the poem mentioned?
graduating with a PhD


a generic orange sweatshirt will forever remind me of my dad.

gerty loves him, too.


i love you, dad. happy birthday.