Me and my one and only brother, when we still ran wild, with the Gulf of Mexico to our backs. He turned Thirty last month, can’t wrap my head around it still. I’ve grown taller than him, but he’ll always be my big brother. He’s got a reputation for being quiet, but I think he just chooses his words very carefully, always respected that about him. I believe in him, and have pride in him, always.
Happy Thirty Joey.
My Dad, Montreal, September 1982 on a motorcycle trip. Only twenty-three here, but already married four years, and already a father. Makes me wonder sometimes what the hell I’m doing. Don’t think there was ever a time he wasn’t invincible. Nor will there be, and thats why hes my Dad.
Happy Fathers Day Dad.