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Photo Friday : Father  Photo Friday : Father Grandfather and Jake Holding Hands One of the fondest memories of my own father was a father-and-son camp in 1978. He didn't promise coming, which was ok since the last time he did come I lost a spelling quiz bee when I froze upon seeing his face among the crowd. So that afternoon, there were no heightened expectations. If he didn't come then I can still back off from the backyard schoolgrounds camp. Up until sunset while all the rest of my friends and their friends' dads started coming one by one, I told myself, "he may have been busy at work and might not come...". As soon as I almost gave up, then came a familiar voice, with a baseball cap worn the other way. My father, who was coaxing me to move from where I stood and to start pitching our tent. During campfire, he did his usual magic tricks and won us, best presentation. That weekend, he won my faith and trust. Bookmark this post on:
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