There was no “Four”
My Dad, manning the grill, next to the pool, under the Florida sun. Following his dream of getting his family the hell out of the Chicago winters.
Here’s to him, and my Mom, for showing me what it means to take a chance and follow a dream, and for always encouraging me to follow my own.
My mom forbade me from taking a picture of her and my dad wearing their tie-dye t-shirts together. Putting that picture here just seemed like the right thing to do.
My Dad. The smartest, and possibly loudest man I know. I’ve no doubt he could easily talk over a fire engine. Today is his birthday.
No matter how old he gets, or I get, I’ll always see him as a superhero.
Bless her heart.
My dad taught me to ride a bicycle down this sidewalk. There’s a lot more shade.
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.
Love,
Kyle.
Mom and Dad exploring the Huntington Library.