29 years now. Dad had an eighth grade education, and every so often you could tell that he regretted not having had the chance to at least finish high school; too much farm work. He never kept my sister or myself out of school to work for a moment, no matter how things were going. He had as much natural mechanical aptitude as anyone I've ever seen, maybe more. When it came to growing things on the farm, he worked like two men or more, had the straightest rows in the area, but never had quite the crop yields that a lot of the neighbors had. I didn't even try to date in high school, or do much of anything extracuricular outside school hours; There was too much chance that Dad would have the car at a neighbors, overhauling machinery for them, and not get back so I could use it. If I started a material project at home, he would generally take it over to be sure that it "got done right". It took years for me to develop a bit of confidence in my own abilities. He was a remarkable mixture of puritanism and easy good humor. At once the definitive simple farmer and an intelligent, complex man.
                           Dean