Thoughts race toward our earthly fathers, and we encourage one another with memories, and how they have helped to fashion how we live. Some are fortunate to have their dads alive, while others think fondly of a bond which helped to create the fabric of who we are.
They have strengthened our bone and marrow by the smallest of things. One of my favorite tools is the bubble level because my dad always used it. ‘Check it again’ he would say, when the darn thing was already dead center. ‘Gotta be precise,’ as a mere fraction off could mean a disaster down the road.
While not being a paid tradesman, he was a master craftsman and paid attention to detail. Old school men were like that, and could equally pour and finish concrete as well as a seasoned mason. The work ethic is sadly on the wane; one needs not…
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