I still call him "daddy".

When you talk to some people, mostly past students, he's the scariest person they know. When you talk to others, he's the greatest musician they've ever heard. In the town I'm visiting, my father is legend. They adore him here. I mean, I know my dad is great, but it's always nice to hear what other people think. "He was the best music leader I've ever known." "He was a great principal." "I love your dad so much. I miss him. Wish he would come down to visit."


After all these years, being a grown woman and all, it's still nice to come home and have a dad who takes care of me. He carries my luggage, buys my meals, fixes up my fishing pole, pays for a new battery in my car, fixes my bed, lets me borrow his car (for a month),  grills me up burgers, asks me questions, encourages me, loves me with his actions.


He is a good man, a wonderful husband, a great father.


Thank you dad for your love and your support. 


I love you.