dad-gummed

My dad was a sailor, and all through my childhood he was away half of the time at sea, and to an extent I have a similar job.

His wife passed away and they had kids, and he wanted to focus on being a dad so he just stopped to raise his kids.

The fear of…Dad, of the war…yes, that…but something else…the fear that life is nor being lived right here now.

My dad had worked for a while as a ranch hand, and his “Open Road” was a remnant of those days.

The kids are out of school, Mom is out of get-up-and-go, Dad is out of work.

"Dad and Hans Rutter, as you know, weren't the sort of men to sit around and mourn over anything like that," she laughed.

When I told dad, sez I, 'Dad, did ever yer hear sech a thing uz gittin' up afore light to feed stock?'

He was one of Dad's tenants, a big purple-faced man, who drank a lot and never took much exercise.

Why, I coaxed even dad over to camp once and I've always wanted Helena to go.

I'd do anything for dad an' I guess if he thought I was gettin' discouraged he'd jest plum up an' quit.