Today is my Dad's birthday. Well, it would have been if he were still around. Rather, I suppose today is the anniversary of his birth.
The time? I'm not sure sure of that. But the place? Springfield, South Dakota - that much is certain. As is the day: March 30th.
In the year 1910.
Yes, my Dad would have been one hundred years old today.
Does that surprise you? He wasn't the oldest kid in that family of seven kids. There was, in order: Loretta, Lysle, Wallace (my Dad), Shirley, Grover, Clarke, and Gene. Gene was the last to go at 92, three years ago.
The others? Long since passed.
My Dad died in 1980 - two weeks shy of his 70th birthday. Thirty years ago. I often think of how lucky it is for my close friends that they still have their fathers around. Me? I've always felt I was born into a different generation than them.
Life is so precious, folks: all I can say as far as that goes is to cherish what time you've got left. Don't let it slip away.
Wallace Marion DeLong was never a father to me - he was just DAD.
Tuesday, March 30
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