When Vulchers Come To Roost

A morality tale that can only offend those to whom it applies.

The seasons had been long. The old bird who watched over everything laid down his head and rested. He fell into the long sleep of death. Ever circling around, they waited for their turn at the nest and the hidden treasures rumored to lie within.

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Of Shiny Knights and First Valentines

Reflecting on life, as I often do, I thought of my daughter who I met for the first time last year. She is 23 and I did not know her until last year. I was disappointed that I only just met her. There was so much of her life I missed. I may be her father, but I never got the chance to be her dad. I missed a grand opportunity.

A child’s first hero should always be the dad. The guy who can lift anything, reach anything, open anything, kill any bug, and knows a lot of stuff. As they grow up they will come to realize dad cannot do everything and does not know as much as first thought. But in some special place inside the child remains a memory that dad was once a hero in their eyes. I missed out on that experience with my daughter.

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