photo: valerie murre-schlick, 1969
But what do you get the man who has nothing for Father's Day? A son. Received 15 June 1969, Father's Day that year, Morgan, my firstborn, and he, today, celebrating the holiday himself for the eighteenth time as the celebrated. But for big, round glasses and a well-waxed handlebar moustache, he still looks about the same, though taller. I'm shorter, fatter, balder. Still proud of my kids, their kids. Still getting accustomed to being The Old Man.
Just a moment, now, to thank Arvin and Daniel and Cornelius and all those grandfathers' grandfathers back to Lieven Murre, born in 1630, and his grandfathers, whose names I do not know.