Good Morning, Dead Daddy, How Are Ya?

Today you 'd be sixty. Sixty seems quite a bit less old to me now that my parents are there, but it still seems older than you should ever be. Your birthday has always been around some big event for me. For a few years, I'd come home from one particular speech tournament (the toughest of the season) to celebrate your Birthday and in recent years, I've called from the Fake Kid Government conference to wish you a happy day. There's nothing like that today. I have a cold that makes my face feel like it might explode. That's event enough.

I put a special song up last year for your Birthday and wanted to do the same this year. I remember singing this song with you (riding in the Chevy van?) when I was about three. Thirty years later when I saw Arlo play his dead daddy's festival, you grilled me as to whether or not he sang this song. He didn't, but when I maintained that the show was free you argued that "if I payed ten damn dollars to park, I oughta hear City of New Orleans!".

We're well and we miss you. I'd tell you more but the internets are listening.