memories of me and my father...

this is to say something to my dear father... i have talked about my family,everybody but my father,and now it is time for my feelings for my father... he is eighty one,going on eighty two,but he does not look like or act his age... good genetics for me,i guess... yesterday,he did a very small thing for yours truly,and it was something that he has done before for me,but yesterday,i just thought it was something that he really did not have to do,with everything that he had to do,yesterday... i remember playing one on one basketball,on our home made dirt court,and then playing golf at the local golf course,in El Dorado Hills(that place now is a bunch of houses,and condos;too bad),but back now more than twenty five years ago,we were playing golf on the third green(i five putted from fifteen feet;never could figure out that stupid green),and he razzed me something fierce going to the fourth tee,and so i took out my driver,said nothing to him,teed it up,then hit the tee shot about 280 yards down the center of that fairway,and then turned around,and said simply to him,"best man wins",and shook his hand... he stood there,stunned,and his jaw dropped open... i will never forget that look that he gave me... remember that old Master Card commercial:gas,$ 5,fees for a round of golf,$18,golf balls,$10,for three balls,tee shot 280 yards,and stunned look on face,priceless... that is the commercial that i will always remember every time i think about that round that cloudless day... to tell you the absolute truth,i actually played my last round of golf with my father with a fractured/severely bent left clavicle... i could not drive the golf ball too far,but my short game was excellent that day,so i suffered through nine holes that day... i was very excited to play a round of golf with my father to tell him anything,that morning,so i played golf... that is one thing that i did,when it basically was impossible to even lift my arm,but i did it that day... he does small things that seem monotonous to other people,but for him,they are normal,and to him,i feel he does them to remain sane,and i deeply respect that(like walking the dog,meeting me for Starbucks,taking care of my stepmother,when she is ill(not complaining about it at all),or taking a kid(me)to Winchell's Donuts,after delivering newspapers on cold nights in Bakersfield,so long ago... that memory to me is priceless,and my father,you are simply loved,period...