My biggest mistake.

              What a great weekend.  We have a new septic tank, we are now just waiting on the drain field.  That should finish up this afternoon and then we have to reseed the yard.  Saturday, we got to spend some family time on a much needed family outing on a bike ride.  Then we got to spend Sunday afternoon with friends playing games and sharing our lives.  What a great week end.  Of course Monday follows that, but that can't be helped.
              I can't help but feel rejuvenated after all that.  Even though I was spent after the bike ride, I felt great.  There was a smile on the entire family's faces even though you could see they were tired (at least the adults, the kids wanted to go again).  We thoroughly enjoyed it.
             I love being able to spend time with my sons and time near them is time well spent.  That being said, I think that for the rest of today's post I will share another excerpt from my answers for my sons.  This one is particularly close to home.

10-3 What’s the biggest mistake you’ve ever made?  What can I learn from it?

I think of so many mistakes I’ve made when I am asked this question that it is almost impossible to answer.  I will give it my best though.  First, allow me to clarify something.  To me, a mistake is an error in judgment or a decision made based on faulty information.  It is not an intentional action nor is it something you plan.  While it would be wrong to rob a bank and a horrible decision, it is not a mistake, it is a choice. 

So, looking at it from that point of view, I believe my biggest mistake was my choice of friends growing up.  You see, I had some of the information and, while it was my choice to be their friend, I erred in my judgment as far as what my will power was.  My friends growing up were diverse and I had two sets.  The first set is not the mistake.  They were my friends from church.  They were Christians and as far as I can tell, they lived it.  No, my mistake was the second set.  They were my friends from school and around home.  They were the ones I chose to hang out with the most.  There is that word again, chose.  My mistake wasn’t choosing to hang out with them, or even to be their friend, no, my mistake was to believe that I was strong enough by myself to resist their ungodly influence.  You see, not one of my friends from school were Christians.  They didn’t even pretend to be good.  Still, I thought I could be strong enough to resist the temptation on my own.  Boy was I wrong.

By the time I had graduated from high school, you couldn’t tell a difference between the way I acted and how my friends from school acted.  I allowed myself to be led astray and to go down a path I still regret to this day.  Because of that mistake, I walked in sin for nearly 20 years.  I told coarse jokes, made fun of others, thought only of me and my pleasure.  I refused to acknowledge God and what he wanted of me.  In my selfishness, I blamed others for my failures and felt cheated when I didn’t get my way.  I tried to live by the rules I had learned in church growing up, at least when I wanted to convince others I was good.  I pretended to be a Christian when I was home to make my father happy, but I was no longer following Christ.  It all came back to the mistake of thinking I could do it on my own, to thinking that I could be friends with ungodly people the way they wanted to be friends, without falling into their lifestyle.  While it was a bad decision to be their friend and to continue in that relationship, it was a decision, not a mistake.  We need to be clear on that.  Bad decisions are not mistakes, they are bad decisions.

What can you learn from all this?  Simply put, trust in God.  Can you have non Christian friends?  Certainly, and you should.  You must, however, be on guard at all times and realize that without God and Christian friends, it is all too easy to fall away from God and into the ungodly lifestyle of your non Christian friends.   You must also be wary of the relationship with them.  A non Christian friend should never be your first source of advice concerning, well, anything.  This is because their advice, while it may sound good, is based on worldly teachings and not on what God says.  Sure, some of their advice may even be exactly what God says, but if you rely on their advice, you will find that God has no part in your life and you will regret it.  I know I do.  You must also never let their opinion of you be a reason to do something.  God’s opinion is all that matters and an ungodly friend does not know or even hear God’s opinion.

This may seem to be a bit harsh.  It may even sound like I am against having ungodly friends.  This couldn’t be further from the truth.  Even God encourages you to have friends among non Christians.  Read Luke 5:29-32: “29 Then Levi gave Him a great feast in his own house. And there were a great number of tax collectors and others who sat down with them. ³⁰ And their scribes and the Pharisees complained against His disciples, saying, ‘Why do You eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?’
³¹ Jesus answered and said to them, ‘Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. ³² I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners, to repentance.’”

Jesus sat with the worst of the society with reason.  The key is to remain rooted in your belief and to not allow them to sway you.  You should also note that, while he sat with them, he did not count them as close friends, that privilege was reserved for his disciples, those who had already committed their lives to him.

In closing, the biggest mistake I ever made was not trusting God over my friends on earth.  Don’t let this happen to you.  Keep your eyes on him and you won’t go wrong.

           Thanks for reading and, as always, have a great day.

Three days of friends means a happy exhaustion.

            So I had a busy weekend.  Initial plans had us hanging out with friends Friday night and Sunday night.  That changed Friday night while we were entertaining the first of our friends.  Another friend called to see if we were busy and wanted to get together so we invited them over for Saturday night.  That made last night the first night we were able to get the kids to bed at a decent time since last Thursday.  I am still tired.  It was a good time and worth it though.  I do look forward to passing out in bed this evening.
            I am currently in the midst of planning brunch for 200 people and finding that it is a huge deal.  What makes it even more wild is, not only the fact that this is my first time leading such a deal, but it is the first time I have been in charge of something so huge.  I have some plans in the works for it, and I keep finding more and more that needs doing.  I meet with the church secretary today to finalize a few of the details and figure out exactly what I will need.  We'll get it done.
         Other than that, not much is going on.  I find that I am falling behind on answering my boys questions so I will try and answer the next one today.  I still have a few things left to do before that, but I should get to it. 
         Thanks for reading and, as always, have a great day.

Weekend update: The camping was fine.

           Great weekend.  It was 4 days of enjoying the sun and communing with fellow Christians.  The park was awesome and the weather perfect.  The boys had a great time and we never once heard them say they were bored (at least not until the ride home).  Now we just need to prep the camper for winter storage and clean up.  We started yesterday, but it will probably take a few days to get it fully unpacked and cleaned.  We did manage to give the boys hair cuts as well as baths.  All in all, we are all feeling great after a wonderful weekend.
           I have to say that the biggest thing I got out of this trip was the testimonies and the evidences of God's work.  I had many discussions with my fellow campers and they were always productive.  One of the topics we touched on was how God makes it easy to believe what we want.  After all, he did say, "Seek and ye shall find."  Although many Christians take this to mean seek God and you will find him, we came to the consensus (I am pretty sure it is accurate as well) that this meant that what ever you seek you will find.  I had some help in this from reading Lee Strobel's "A Case for Faith."  God has given us every evidence we need to prove his existence, if we seek that proof.  He has also given us enough evidence to disprove himself to a certain degree if we choose that direction.  What I find even more interesting though, is that if you keep digging into proof that God doesn't exist, you eventually reach the point where you have disproved your proof and have to start again.  Most people that I have ran into stop when they have enough proof to satisfy themselves and stop looking.  As a Christian, I keep finding more and more proof of God's existence and have yet to find that point where my proof is disproved. 
            We also found that those that decide to prove that God doesn't exist have their reasons for doing so.  These range from not wanting to admit they are sinners to the understanding that if they admit God exists that they have to give up the life and beliefs they currently hold.  To quote Pastor Barry, "A faith that requires little to nothing is a little to nothing faith."  I was among the sinners who didn't want to give up what he had.  The problem was I believed in God, I just chose to ignore what I needed to do to have that closer walk with him.  Once I gave that up, I found that I had less stress, I had a closer relationship to my wife and kids, and I was happier overall.  I am not saying it is easy.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  Turns out, the sin nature is quite the strong and determined little beast.  I have to be ever diligent to keep from cussing or getting involved in looking at things I shouldn't.  I have to fight the fight daily to keep from doing the things I used to do.  I don't always win, but it is easier now to admit them to God and be brought back.  It is just the way it is. 
          Thank you for letting me ramble today and giving me some of your time.  Have a wonderful day and keep your chin up.  Every bad day ends and a good day is sure to come (we can hope anyway.)

Happy Hump Day: Bad Jokes are Good?

       It's Happy Hump Day.  In this installment, I tell some jokes that may not make you laugh and a story that might.  Here goes nothing (OK, hopefully not nothing, something, but nothing worth writing about, OK, obviously I think it's worth writing about, but.....oh never mind, just read on).
       Growing up in a Christian home meant that the language and topics were always clean.  This led to jokes that the rest of society usually found somewhat boring (explains a lot about my sense of humor).  My dad always had a well of jokes that sometimes hurt, literally.  They ranged from the head scratchers (What can go up a chimney down, but not down a chimney up?  An umbrella!) to down right childish (what has 4 wheels and flies?  A Garbage truck!).  Dad always got a chuckle out of them.  I think it was because he was watching our expressions.  At least that's why I laugh half the time.  Yes, I have taken to telling my dad's jokes to my coworkers and friends (they say I torture them by telling the jokes, but at least I get a laugh).  In fact, I was banned from telling jokes during one underway as the Engineer said the jokes were so bad that he felt his IQ dropping just from hearing them.  Sure they were dumb, but that was the point.
        Admit it, you have all told jokes that were really dumb.  Then you laughed afterwards.  Why?  Because you got to see the look of total disbelief and incomprehension cross the face(s) of the audience.  That look is almost always worth a laugh.  And laughter is infectious.  I found the best way to ensure a laugh is to give a genuine chuckle yourself.  It has to be genuine, people can tell.  If you fake a laugh, you just look silly and dumber than....for lack of a better comparison, my dad's bad jokes.  We still laughed at them, but looking back (and, yes telling them myself) they were (are) dumb.
        I also found that my dad liked telling his jokes with themes.  For instance, he might tell a series of jokes one day that were all about rabbits.  Yes, he had a dozen rabbit jokes.  Think of all the puns for hare and you can get a picture of what it might sound like.  I hear you groaning.  It was worse.  Themes let you trap the unwary listener....never mind, keep reading, nothing to worry about.  The only requirement for themes is that the jokes are loosely tied together in some way and there has to be at least three jokes for it to be a theme.  I usually used the bad joke theme, it was the easiest one to use. 
        Conveniently, I forgot a lot of dad's jokes, but then again, some of them were so bad they were good.  You know the ones.  The ones you hear and groan immediately after the punch line and then the groan becomes a deep laugh that you just can't stop.  Those of you that have had the pleasure (misfortune?) of hearing my (my dad's really) jokes, know what I am talking about. 
        Which makes me ask, why do people stick around and actually show interest in jokes when you tell them you have a bad joke?  Seriously, I say, "want to hear a bad joke?" and the usual response is, "not really, but go ahead."  Why?  If you don't want to hear it, say no and leave.  I'm not lying, it usually is bad.  Groan and feel dumb bad.  Better to bang your head against the wall bad.  And yet, you listen patiently and are amazed that I actually told a bad joke.  Even those of you that have been around me enough.  Why?  Guess they are as addictive (and sometimes as dangerous as) illicit drugs.  I know I can't wait to expand my cache of bad jokes.
        Thank you for reading.  Let me leave you with a bad joke.  Just kidding, I want to see your face when I tell it.  Have a great day.
         One last thing.  If you look over there ------> you see a link to my other blog Joe's Story time.  It is a serial story I am writing.  Enjoy.

Teenagers, bowling balls, and black powder

  Since I was busy yesterday, I figured that I would make up Happy Hump Day today.  This week, with the 4th of July around the corner, I figured a Fireworks laden story is a must.
   The year was...let's just say a few years ago and leave it at that.  The setting was my home.  I was young...er than I am now.  We had made a trip down to Missouri and picked up the most fireworks we had ever gotten.  We actually filled dad's trunk.  It was impressive.  We had firecrackers, bottle rockets, mortars, you name it, dad had it.  We also figured that in order to do it safely we should have a bit of extra fuse.  Turns out, dad ended up with 500 yards of cannon fuse.  We had a great fourth and used almost every piece of fireworks we had (I think we had 3 bottle rockets and a couple strings of firecrackers left).  What about the canon fuse, you ask?  Yup, you guessed it, we had at least 450 yards of cannon fuse left as well.  And that's where this story really begins.
     The first thing you need to understand is that my dad had a memory like a rusty steel trap.  By that I mean that it was usually stuck open, but would snap shut on the weirdest memories at the weirdest times.  In other words, he would forget about a lot of irrelevant things and you could count on him forgetting things that held no day to day relevance (until he needed to remember it).  This meant that us kids used it to our advantage.  For instance, we knew that dad would forget that he had a dozen cookies and that thus we were clear to eat them.  This worked most times.  We just had to take note of how many dad had eaten and whether or not he might want more.  And thus we knew he would forget about the roll of cannon fuse.  Especially if he didn't see it every day.  Thus about a month later I pulled it out from the back of the shed so my friends and I could experiment.
    After determining that it was near useless as a fire starter, and that its burn rate was consistent (I can't remember what it was), we decided to use it for more interesting experiments.  About that same time, my friend John found an old piece of sewer pipe in our local junkyard.  It was about 3 ft long and a good 6 inches in diameter.  He also discovered a small cache of used bowling balls in the same junkyard.  After parting with about $20 of our combined money, we had these in our possession.  At first we just stared at our new acquisitions.  We already knew the bowling balls were a snug fit in the pipe, but other than that we had no idea why we bought them.  That was until our friend Tom came along.
   "Buildin' a cannon?"  He asked innocently.
   I saw John's eyes go wide just as the light came on in my head.  "Yes...Yes we are."  We said simultaneously.
    At that point things began to happen rapidly.  We decided to build the cannon in the back of John's truck as we figured we wouldn't want to lift it after it was built (we couldn't fire it at home for obvious reasons).  Thus it was that with a lot of careful planning and thought (mainly a lot of guess work and nodding), we had a cannon sitting in John's truck.  Allow me to describe this work of 4 teenagers with limited resources (namely what we were able scrounge up or "borrow").  The base was a 3 ft by 3 ft square of concrete 12 inches thick (turns out dad had a few scrap 2x12's sitting in the barn) with a hunk of sewer pipe sticking out of it at roughly a 45 degree angle.  We had drilled a hole slightly larger than the cannon fuse we had into the pipe using a borrowed drill and drill bits.  As we stared at our creation while the cement dried we discussed where to go to test fire the cannon and what to use as propellant.  More precisely, whose father would unknowingly supply the propellant, since all of our fathers had black powder rifles at home.  We decided that since it was a group effort, we would all contribute equally.  Thus it was that we ended up in the middle of a field overlooking a pond with 6 one pound cans of black powder, 5 bowling balls, 450 feet of cannon fuse, and our homemade cannon.
     The next debate which reared its head was how much powder to use.  We argued for what must have been an hour before John insisted that we remove the cannon from the back of his truck prior to firing it.  He used the tried and true method of getting up a bunch of speed in reverse then slamming on the brakes.  The cannon managed to land upright and bury itself 4 inches into the soft field aimed in the general direction of the pond.  After John had moved his truck a good 50 ft from the cannon we commenced to load it.  As we poured in the powder we decided to fill it enough to cover the fuse hole and hide the concrete bottom.  This amount was approximately 1 can.  For those of you not familiar with black powder, a typical rifle uses less than 1/2 ounce of black powder and most cannons use maybe 1/2 pound to launch a 12 pound ball.  Our bowling balls were about 11 pounds and we used a full pound of black powder.  Because our fathers used black powder to hunt, we were familiar with how to load a black powder rifle and used those principles on the cannon.  Thus we used newspaper as wadding between the bowling ball and the powder.  After packing it in we shoved in the fuse and fed out enough so that we were behind Johns truck for the launch (turns out we were just chicken enough not to kill ourselves), and lit the fuse.
     Turns out, when you are waiting for an explosion, fuses burn really slow.  They also have a bad habit of reaching the explosive at the exact same time as you poke your head up to make sure it is still burning.  Thus I was able to witness the 6 ft flame as the bowling ball left the cannon with a roar.  It took me a few minutes to realize why the world was silent and an hour for the sound (ringing though it was) to return.  The bowling ball cleared the pond which was at least a quarter mile away and landed in a cloud of dust.  I observed my friends jump up and down for a few brief minutes in what I could only assume was celebration.  It was then that they realized they couldn't hear either.  As we inspected our cannon, we noticed that the based was not only cracked, but broken and buried in the field.  The barrel still smoking with remnants of burning newspaper hanging out of it.  When our hearing returned, we decided that the cannon should be returned to the junkyard from whence it came and that it was Tom's dad who lost a pound of black powder to "random events."

Lessons from Dad.

     You can say what you want, but I can think of a million reasons why my dad is great.  OK, maybe not an actual million, but I can think of a lot of them.  I think the main reason is what he gave us that we never realized he gave.  As a dad I now realize just how much it takes to raise a family (at least the preteen years, I am dreading the teens). 
     To start it off he gave patience.  He gave us more than we could ever deserve.  As I look at my boys, I realize just how much they try my patience.  Take meals for instance.  I love cooking for my family.  The boys however have decided that if they can't immediately figure out what it is, it must taste horrible.  Add on to this my oldest's fear of anything new and you get for some very interesting meal times.  I try so hard to to get angry at them when they refuse to try something or call it "yucky" after a single nibble.  Then I reflect back and realize I did the same thing.  At this point I must apologize to my father.  I now understand that look, the clenched jaw and laser eyes.  I also realize what it took for you to remain as calm as you did for as long as you did. 
    Next, through in the lessons in work ethics.  Man did I hate all the work you made me do at home.  Mowing the yard (hey it was an acre and we only had a push mower), cleaning out the barns (hog, goat, chicken, and rabbit), and taking care of the garden (sure the food was fresh, but isn't a quarter acre a bit excessive?)  Now I realize just what it gave me.  I have an appreciation for hard work and a nice lawn.  I understand what it takes to care for animals and a bit more of how nature works (I can also stand smells that would make most people puke).  I know how to grow a garden and what it takes so I can feed my family as I get older.  It took me years to learn that the sooner I got started the sooner it was done.  It also took me years to learn that once you start, don't stop till you're done, momentum is hard to get back.  I may forget your lessons sometimes dad, but thank you for teaching them to me.
   I also have to thank dad for what he gave up for me.  As most of you know, my mother died when I was 13.  Dad never gave up on us and remained as a single parent until after I had left home and was in the Navy.  He never complained about being lonely or wanting to go out on dates.  I realize now that dad gave up adult companionship to raise us kids.  I can't imagine what it would be like to have nothing but teenagers and grade schoolers to talk to night after night.  thanks again dad.
   If I were to sum up my dad in a single phrase it would be generous to a fault.  Eve today, he continues to give of himself.  He currently has at his house, a lot of kids, many of whom he adopted.  Did I mention he is in his late 60's.  When he should be out enjoying his retirement and relaxing, he is giving of himself to raise a bunch of kids that aren't his by blood, but are his through love and caring.  The only word I can think of to describe this is selfless.  My admiration and awe of my dad only continues to grow.  I wish that I could be half as selfless as he.
    As you can probably tell, I have the deepest love and respect for my dad.  Even if I haven't told him, I do.  I know I don't call him as often as I should.  He was always hard to talk to for me.  I am only beginning to realize now why that is.  He is my idol, the one human I wish to be most like as I grow older.  I fear his rebuttal so much, and yet I only feel encouraged after I talk to him. 
    I hope that someday dad can read these words and understand just what it is he means to me.  Thanks dad.  Thanks for caring enough to raise me and teach what it means to not just be a man, but to be a dad.  Thanks for not just telling me how to get along with other, but being a shining example of it.  Thanks for showing me what it means to care for and help others.  Thanks for being my dad.  Just thank you.

Dad's 2 ton Gun

   Happy Hump Day!  Continuing with the theme this week, I will now regale you with more dad.  The fact that my father is a plumber, electrician, and generally good guy has led to many interesting encounters.  Dad has many acquaintances through this line of work and nearly all of them have the same opinion of him.  This has led to a host of connections that has helped dad throughout his life.  One of the most interesting to me, is his relationship with the district DNR agent. 
       For those of you unfamiliar with this term, the DNR agent is the person responsible for enforcing the fish and wildlife laws.  In other words he makes sure hunters and fishermen don't do anything illegal (which is why most hunters and fishermen avoid the DNR agent at all costs).  It's kind of like when you are driving a fast sports care, you tend to avoid the police even if you aren't doing anything wrong.  Well, because dad does all of his plumbing and electrical, they know each other well. 
      The best example of this relationship occurred my freshman year in high school.  At the time, dad had a 60 something ford truck.  To say this truck was interesting, is to be kind.  The previous owner had hand painted it with house paint a bright blue with a white cab.  From a distance (a mile is about right) it looked OK, up close, the brush strokes really came out, which is fine on a work of art, not so much on a truck.  Anyway, since the truck was built in the 60's, it was made with steel.  Now-a-days safety is based on safety features (airbags, seat belts, crumple zones, etc.), but back then, it was generally believed that what made a car safe was how much damage it could drive away from.  Trucks from the era could probably have taken on a bulldozer and won.  Knowing this, and adding in the fact that we were usually scraping by, you can understand dad's philosophy when it came to what to do when a deer decided to step onto the road in front of him.  Most people slam on the brakes and brace themselves.  Not dad.  When he was in that truck, he would down shift and step on the gas (if he wasn't already at top speed). 
     "More humane to hit 'em at high speed and go for the instant kill," was the reasoning.  So it came as no surprise when dad came home with an 8 point buck in the back of the truck the night before deer season opened.
     Any other day of the year, dad probably would not have informed the DNR.  Since Deer season started the next day and his friend might decide to stop by and see what was being butchered, dad figured he ought to call.  So he called his friend, the DNR agent.  This is the only time I can ever remember him showing up at our place in an official capacity.  He walked around the truck and looked over the deer on all sides.  Did a lot of frowning and finally asked his first question.
   "Any damage to the truck?"
   Dad simply smiled and said, "Think I need to realign my head lights, but they may have been like that before I hit the darn thing."
  "How fast were you going?"
  "Don't really know, I was speeding up at the time."
  "How many is that now?"
  "I don't know, about one a year a suppose, say 5."
  At this point, the DNR agent just shook his head and said, "Alright, I can tell you didn't shoot him, but I really ought to classify that truck as a hunting implement."
   Dad just smiled and shook the agents hand as he left.  From that day on, though, the Truck was called the 2 ton gun. 
   Enjoy your day and have a wonderful week.
  

This weekend, and a note about growing up.

      So all in all, it wasn't to bad a weekend.  Saturday, I started to help a friend remodel his bathroom.  I say started because as we started working on removing the old tub and fixtures we discovered to outside wall had a slight carpenter ant infection.  By slight I mean, we were able to keep from tearing down the entire house.  The damage was limited to a 6' x 7' section of wall.  Now when the weather is nice, I get to help him rebuild a wall.  Yippee. 

    Sunday came and low and behold, my youngest was sick.  Luckily I couldn't breathe due to my cold and thus didn't have to smell his dirty diapers (apparantly they were horrible).  Between an upset 3 year old, a raging headache, an inability to breathe, and an overwhelming desire to sleep, I was unable to go to Easter services.  I was a bit bummed.  This also meant I was unable to go and help my friend with finishing his bathroom.  Guess it was a good thing it rained.  I felt slightly better that afternoon so I was able to finally color eggs with my boys.  The eggs are currently sitting in the fridge waiting to be eaten or turned into something yummy.  I doubt I will be able to taste them since I still can't breathe.  So my weekend was pretty much a wash.  I got to spend so little time with my family that it didn't seem like a weekend at all.

   Today, I spent the first 10 minutes draining my nose.  At least I don't have a headache today.  I still can't breathe and want ot go to sleep, but I think I will survive.  All in all it has been interesting.  At least I had a good chance to work with a friend and maybe we can finish his bathroom before the end of the week.  We'll see.

     The converstations I had this weekend have really hit home on so many levels.  I realized just how lucky I was to have a father who was willing to take me to work with him and teach me what it was he did.  I also find that what I was given through his discipline and direction helped to shape who I became and influences me to this day.  I have realized that I want nothing more than to return to that style of living.  I used to think that my dad wasn't business savy and could have made his business a lot larger and maybe not lived with as little as we did.  Looking back, I realize now that I was wrong.  Dad could have easily increased his business to become some large business, but he would have lost the connection with his customers.  I believe now that this was his main reason for having the business the way he did.  That is why whenever the business started to really grow, he always managed to make it smaller again.  He enjoyed connecting with people and still does.  I have found I have a similar desire, just on a smaller scale.  Due to many reasons, I am not as trusting or outgoing as my dad.  I am happy to spend hours sitting by myself, but I will go out of my way for a friend.  I may not make a ton of friends, but those I allow into that circle are there for life.  As I have mentioned to my friends and family, I have many aquaintances and very few friends.  I like to know that as my friend, I can count on you as much as you can count on me.  My dad is much the same.  His circle of friends may be larger, but that is due to how long he has had to make them and the community he lives in.  Like many who have had a father that cares for them, I want to be like my dad.  Maybe not a carbon copy, but enough of a facsimile that some can see my dad in me.  Of all the compliments I can recieve, to hear that I am like my dad is the greatest one I think I could get.  So, to end this, I guess I could just say, Thanks dad.  And expect me to take this to the next level come Fathers Day.