My dad was many things in his life: a soldier, a cook, a cop, a lineman, a farmer, a janitor, a lay minister, a guide, and much more. But to me he was always a teacher. One thing he taught me about was books.

Dad was a voracious reader who read everything from Shakespeare to Zane Grey. He loved westerns and mysteries, history and biographies, poetry and drama, and silly little “bathroom” joke books. He taught me to enjoy words. Anytime we were waiting in a parking lot, he would point out a word on a sign and challenge my brother and me to find as many words in that one word as we could. He made learning how to spell fun. I remember the games of Scrabble we used to play, though we stopped when I went to college. He said I knew too much for him. Hah.

It is because of him and his love of the written word that I am able to follow my dream of being a writer. Thank you, Dad.