A toast to my Dad, the only living Irishman who cannot drink beer. A hard worker (just ask him!), who luckily married well.

I do not remember the first time I met my Dad. I only found out later that he missed my birth, by minutes, due to having to go to a job interview. He won the job despite his 41 years due to my "It's A Boy!" sticker, or so I have been told. I do not remember getting a thank you at the time either.

Did you know that my son, Connor, has his hair? Don't think so?, look at some old pictures, you'll see. Blonde, curly, and crazed. Connor loves his Bito, maybe not as much as black olives but Bito understands these things. Did you know that he used to eat black olives like they were candy? Here are some pictures of the 2:
Fun With Bito

In 1993 I told my Dad that when the roof was replaced, if he still lived there and helped with it I would pay for it. The roof was guaranteed for 40 years, that bill will be coming up in 26 years. According to my bank, the roof had better last 80 years.

Here's to my Dad!, may we all our spouses work as hard as his, and may we learn to be as stoic about our hardships.

Patrick