When is becomes was
This post was supposed to be several things, but two days ago it had to become something else. Indulge me this personal digression and I'll return to normal programming soon. I appreciate your time.
Dad is now a was.
Was a bagpiper. One of the finest. It’s because I grew up hearing pipes that I know what makes a good piper (hint — a lot of it has to do with the tuning)
Was a karate instructor.
Was a pilot.
Was an officer in the United States Coast Guard Auxiliary.
Was a draftsman, designer, and engineer.
Was a Ski Patrol volunteer.
Was an American Red Cross first aid instructor.
Was a commando in the British Royal Marines.
Was of that self-taught generation of men and fathers who could do whatever they had to, from tune up the car to wire the house.
Was an angry young Irishman with flaws and vulnerabilities, as every young man is to a degree, then became a man who everyone worth a damn liked and loved.
Was the oldest of eight in Ireland, went to Glasgow, then to Canada with my mom, Lily, then to Chicago, then to Florida.
Was a big Journey fan.
Was a laugher, watching The Three Stooges and Laurel and Hardy with young me.
Was father to me and Moe.
Was Marion’s devoted husband, and the wise, life compass for Ken, Karen, and Ricky.
Was gran’pa, great gran’pa, and papa.
Was 97.
Michael Harkins was so much, so, so much.
And the world may still be an is, but it was better with him in it.
MWH