“Pop, hold on to me.” The son said with a smile as he opened the passenger side door…and I was instantly transported to a time 24 years before.


Our son, Bryan, was getting his drivers license and in front of us as we stood in line abreast…stood an older man with his father…who was taking the vision test.


The old man put his head in the machine…but something went awry…when asked to read the top line…”I can’t!” was his reply


“Let me try again.” The old man insisted. “Which line did you say?”

The screener answered, “the top line” then the old man stepped away


He looked at his son next to him…then angrily back at the screen…

“I’m not sure,” he said to his son, “but I think there’s something wrong with this machine.”


“Miss,” he asked the lady who had let out a cynical yawn, “this machine you’re using for my test…are you sure the darn things on?”


“I’m sure.” The lady replied…her voice was low and grating…

“Read the top line please.” She repeated, “there are many people waiting.”


In a voice that seemed so unkind…as if she was provoked…

She said, “If you cannot read the first line, sir, your license is revoked.”


The old man pushed his head back in to the machine then cried out, “This can’t be!” as he unsuccessfully tried to read a line he could not see.


Next he took a step back…he looked old and frail and weak…but he stood up tall, straightened his clothes and brushed a tear from off his cheek.


“Don’t worry, Pop.” His son said. “This is nothing we can’t survive…after all the years you drove me around…think of this as my turn to drive.”


“Pop, hold on to me.” He said as they slowly waked out the door. “I’ll drive you home the same way you drove me home before.”


The memory of that day will always be special to me…not just because Bryan passed his test…but it was also the day I saw in a son’s love…a father truly blessed.

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The father was a fisherman…the weekend could never come too soon

for he loved to drive up to the lake and fish under the moon.


The son was not interested in catching fish…but for him the weekend could never come too soon

for when he accompanied his father up to the lake he couldn’t wait to catch the moon.


The father often wished a fisherman his son would one day make

but the son seemed much more interested in catching the moon reflected in the lake.


One day instead of handing his son a fishing pole on a quiet moment afloat…

The father filled a bucket with water and set it in the boat.


“Keep your eyes on the water in the bucket.” The father said. 

“I’ll row around and soon…

Yell out the exact moment when we have caught the moon.”


The son was so excited having captured the moon in his bucket made of chrome

and at the end of the night he smiled asking, “Dad, can we take it home?”


“The moon is not meant to be captured for long.” He heard his father say.

“But do not fret, when we get home…I’ll show you another way.”


When they returned home from the lake…the son began to swoon

as the father refilled the bucket and said, “Let’s go catch ourselves a moon.”


The father knew a lot of tricks…he’d been teaching his son since he was small

but that night he taught his son, perhaps, the greatest trick of all.


He showed his son a father’s love is something that can never come too soon…

The night they filled their bucked with water…and went fishing for the moon.”

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I saw my dad the other day…it was on my morning walk

He was standing underneath a tree…and so I stopped to talk


I said, “Dad what are you doing here?” as I leaned against the tree

He said,”what I do every day around this time…”

He was checking up on me.


“But I walk this route every day,” I said, “and I never see you underneath this tree.”

Hs said just because I don’t see him doesn’t mean he doesn’t see me.


But you’ve been gone so long I cried…so many years I’ve been on my own

He smiled touched my shoulder and said, “Son, you’ve never been alone.”


And so we talked a while…it was the best conversation we ever had

and when it was time to leave I said, “It was great to see you, Dad”.


I smiled at him and just before he faded from my view

he smiled back then answered, “It was great to see you too.”


And now ever morning on my walk…I smile as I pass that tree

at the gentle reminder that wherever I go…Dad is looking out for me.

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One day a son came to his father saying,

“Father, there’s something I’ve been thinking of…

How do you know you’ve found the one you’ve been looking for?

How do yo know when it’s love?”


“I asked your grandfather this same question.” His father said.

“hen I was no older than you…

and the answer he gave to me that day

is the answer I now share with you”.


“When saying her name makes you smile.

When that smile lasts all the day long.

When the sound of her voice is music to your ears

When her words become your love songs.”


“When you realize her hopes and her dreams

and your hopes and dreams are the same.”

When the sun and the clouds and the moon remind you of her

when the wind and breeze echo her name.




When saying his name makes you smile

When that smile lasts all the day long…

When the sound of his voice is music to your ears

When his words become your love songs.


When you realize his hopes and his dreams

and your hopes and dreams are the same…

When the sun and the clouds and the moon remind you of him

when the wind and breeze echo his name.


And there came a day when the father sighed

as he looked out his window and grinned

for he noticed the smile on his son’s face

as he was turning his ears to the wind.

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On our way into the stadium before the game had even begun

I saw them walking together…a father and his son.


They were excited, smiling…laughing as father and son are wont to do

They had on matching hats and shirts…the same color…Toronto blue.


The son was wearing a mitt on his hand…to me it looked brand new

Hoping, I’m sure, to catch a foul ball and make a dream come true.


I saw them at the concession stand where the father gave his son a wink

and said, “We’d like two hot dogs, two french fries and two drinks.”


On our way down to our seats still before the game had even begin

I saw them sitting in front of us…a father and his son.


They were excited, smiling…laughing as father and son are wont to do

Only this father and son were much older…in their matching Toronto blue.


I watched as the son put down his old mitt, stood and ask his father loud and clear

“Dad, I’m going to the concession stand…do you want a hot dog and a beer?”


The father looked up at his son, smiled and nodded his head…

“I’d like that.” His voice was barely above a whisper…

"The usual.” He said.


On our way out of the stadium…after the visiting team had won

I saw them walking together…these two fathers and two sons.


And it reminded me of what I love about baseball…

where the future meets the present and the present meet the past

where families just by watching a game make memories that last…


where fathers and sons come together…

fathers and daughters too

where even if the home team lost…and no foul ball was caught


dreams can still come true.

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In spite of all his hopes and wishes and the many hours he would pray

he watched as the gleam in his father’s eyes as well as his memories faded away.


And even after his light went out and he no longer knew his name

when he was but a stranger to him…he’d visit…just the same


And he would tell him stories picked from his memory

of how he used to read him books as he sat upon his knee.


Of the times they’d play catch in their front yard

how he taught him how to swim

of all the times they were together

just his dad…and him


He’d remind him how he loved to play games

how it didn’t matter if he’d lose…or win..

he’d mention all the things they’d seen

and all the places they had been.


He would sit for hours…his stories flowing out with ease

and he felt blessed to be sharing…a lifetime of memories.


When asked why he sits for hours with a person who no longer knows his name

He simply smiles politely for his answer is always the same


“I’m reminding him of all the fun we’ve had

all the places we have roamed…

and since all these memories began with him


I’m making sure they find their way back home.”

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“Daddy!” the young boy screamed one night, 

his voice was filled with dread

When his dad arrived his son cried out,

“There’s a monster beneath my bed!”


His father touched his son’s cheek and smiled, 

“Let me have a look.” he said 

Then clutching his son’s hand 

he peered beneath his bed.


“Be careful Daddy! Be careful.” was all his son could say.

“I think we scared him off.” Dad said, “Looks like he’s run away.”


‘“You see monsters are good as scaring but it’s courage that they lack.

I have just the thing you need to insure that monster won’t come back.”


It guarantees there will never again be a monster beneath your bed.

Then he put something in his son’s hands…”It’s a dreamcatcher.” He said


This will only let your good dreams in…it filters out the bad.

It will scare off any future monsters…no matter how big or ugly…or mad.


And from that day forward throughout the years

the dreamcatcher worked just like his dad said

and never again did he awaken to find 

any monsters beneath his bed.


And many a morning we would awake and wonder…

since he only had good dreams…never bad.

if the magic was in his dreamcatcher…


or the magic was in his dad.

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It was something his father always told him

a truth he wanted known

He’d say, son, together we are greater

than either one of us is alone


He’d say, If we want to make our world a better place…

we must blend together every seed of knowledge ever sown..

for together we are greater than any one of us is alone…


We must turn our disparities into strengths, he’d say 

and not let our differences be overblown

for together we are greater than any one of us is alone…


We must realize how we need one another

and understand something the Earth has always known

that together we are greater than any one of us is alone…


He died…but his message has stayed with his son

and now that he’s on his own

He is stronger knowing his father’s with him…


than he could ever be alone.

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He asked his young son what he does in the garden…

how can he play out there for hours…

His son smiled and said, “it’s simple, Dad. 

I have questions for the flowers.


“I ask them where their colors come from, 

sometimes I get down on my knees

and I whisper into their petals…

do you dream about the bees.”


“I ask them how they breathe, 

and if they ever have the chance

to laugh or play with one another…

and if they sing…or dance.”


“I ask them if they have a heart,

if they have a soul…a brain.

I ask them which one they like more

the sunshine or the rain.”


“I ask them how they know to bloom in Springtime

and I ask them where they go

where do they vacation 

in the Winter cold and snow?” 


“That’s why I spend so much time with them…

why I can play out there for hours…

because there always seem to be more questions

I want to ask the flowers.


“And do the flowers answer?” Dad asked

“Do they talk back to you?”

The little boy’s eyes widened…then he smiled…

“Oh Dad…of course they do.”


And many times after they talked that day

the little boy didn’t go to the garden alone….

He walked hand in hand with his father…


who had some questions of his own.

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