You taught me how to hunt, fish and ride horses.
How to shoot straight, wait patiently and respect all of God’s immense family.
Man, I loved those rides we took through the hills and woods by Pioneer Park golf course.
I tried to love golf like you did, but it wasn’t really in me. I do still watch it on TV though.
I watch and think of you.
I think of all the lessons you gave me. So many.
You saw to it I learned from the best, bought the best and was the best I could be.
Golf, tennis, archery, football, baseball and poker – poker now that I took to.
I remember you spending a fortune at the Nebraska State Fair Midway to win me a stuffed dog.
You refused to quit even though the games were all fixed against you.
I remember all the things we did together, the things I wish I could have done with my own kids,
But times were different and all dad’s have different challenges.
I know it was hard for you to drive so far to be with me, but you did it twice a month for years.
You bought me my first car when I was sixteen. We had to take the train from Lincoln to North Platte at the other end of the state. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
A 1950 blue and white Chevy Bel Air coup with sun visor, white wall tires, AM radio and so much chrome I thought I’d go blind.
Then you handed me the keys told me to drive safely.
I was honored, dumbfounded and more than a little afraid.
You treated me like a man before I knew what that meant.
I love you dad.
Thanks you. Thank you. Thank you.
Tom Pauley
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