Today is my dad’s birthday. He would have been 78.
My father passed away in 2004 from mesothelioma. His hard work as a longshoreman in Brooklyn is what exposed him to the asbestos that lead to him getting sick many years later. Still, I don’t think about how or why he died, but rather how and why he lived.
My dad lived for his family. For my mom, for my brother, and for me. My dad was as blue-collar as they come, and I learned so much from him in terms of what it means to be a dad.
So on this day, one on which seventy eight years ago a boy was born in a hospital in Colorado Springs, I raise a toast to the memory of my dad. A toast to the man the blazed the trail as set a standard as a father I so humbly hope to replicate with my children.