Hey, Dad. It’s been a while since I’ve written you. In between those “talks,” I wrote a couple of blogs, including one after the Chiefs reached the Super Bowl. That’s right, old man, Kansas City actually played in the Super Bowl last week. It gets better. Get this: The Kansas City Chiefs actually WON the […]
Webb: Hey, Dad, how about those Chiefs?! Read More »
It was a cool day, but not for January. I remember that because many of us at Maplecrest Elementary School were outside for recess. Considering how most of the winters are in Missouri, having recess outside was not the norm. As we did on many days from November through March, most of us as fourth-graders
Webb: Challenger Disaster a defining moment for Gen X Read More »
A week after my Dad told us he had six months to live, we hunkered down in his house for Missouri’s bowl game, the last of many Tiger football games we watched together through the years. Though competitive, I rarely saw the old man get angry during games. This was different. He cussed and threw
Webb: Dad was right … Mahomes pulled it off Read More »
Hey, Dad. A few weeks ago, Shana wrote a wonderful blog to you about the holidays and how much we missed you at Christmas. Toward the end, as he she’s explaining how I’m handling your death well but miss you greatly, she asked you to continue stopping by in my dreams. It struck me that
Webb: You’re always welcome in my dreams, Dad Read More »
Hey, Dad. I was going to write to you a few days ago to finish the Twelve Days of Christmas series on my blog, but after reading my wife’s wonderful letter to you I originally decided that was a fitting end. A few days later, I decided that I needed to write to you. There
Twelve Days of Christmas finale: Thank you for a lifetime of memories, Dad Read More »
Note: I wrote this, but did not publish it, on Christmas evening in 2018, less than a week after Dad was diagnosed with terminal bone cancer. Dad passed away on Aug. 5, 2019, at age 74. Barring a miracle, today was my father’s last Christmas. I’d hoped it would be a joyous occasion, but most
Twelve Days of Christmas, Part 11: Dad’s last Christmas Read More »
Not long ago, I wrote about the time I realized my parents weren’t going to live forever. I consider that moment, at age 9, one of the defining moments of my childhood. There are plenty of other moments like that as we’re growing up. Your first crush. Your first kiss. The first time you got
Twelve Days of Christmas, Part 10: The magic of believing in Santa Read More »
Yesterday I wrote that in 43 years, I’d only been away from home on Christmas four times. It was just a given that the family spent time together on that holiday. Even after they divorced, Mom and Dad set aside their differences on the big day, spending that time together for my brother and I.
Twelve Days of Christmas, Part IX: Home, and family, is where the heart is Read More »
In 43 years, I was with my dad for all but four Christmases. That might not sound impressive to those who spend every Christmas with their families, but it is considering how many years I worked in newspapers and lived hundreds of miles from home. The first time I wasn’t home for the big day
Twelve Days of Christmas, Part VIII: There’s nothing like kids at Christmas Read More »
The first time my father ran away from home, he was 6 years old. He’d had enough of “not being allowed to do anything” and was set on seeing the world. Picture the iconic image of a boy leaving home with a bindle over his shoulder. That was the old man as a child walking
Twelve Days of Christmas, Part VII: About Dad’s best friend Danny Read More »
