Shoot For The Moon. If You Miss,

The Grief Of Losing My Father Has Come In Waves Over The Years, As It Does With Most People. His Love And Devotion As A Father Provided My Closest, Most Intimate Relationship. Dad, And Our Time Together, Is In My Bones. While Reflecting On Him, The Memories Themselves Seem To Boil Down Into Certain 'essences Of Dad.'

Few Men In Their 70s Looked As Good As My Father Did. What Was His Secret? Genes, Maybe, Since He Didn't Exercise Or Diet, And He Kept A Candy Drawer, Drank A Pot Of Black Coffee Every Day, And Read In The Middle Of The Night. Still, He Took Such Joy In Being A Dad - And In Life In General - And His Happiness Showed.

My Son Cary's Generation Likely Won't Know Who My Father Was, But It's Something Nice For Him That His Grandfather Was An Icon. I Had One Chance To Pass Along That Name.

It's Something He Used To Say When He Was Happy. It Could Be A Very, Very Simple Day. We Might Be Sitting Out On The Front Lawn. Dad Loved Classical Music And We Might Be Listening To Some Stravinsky Or Something And Having Some Tea And Eggs. And He'd Say, 'oh, Good Stuff, Isn't It?'

Dad Was Synonymous With His Charm And Wit And Grace, And It Was Sort Of The Perfect Way To Go For Him.