Dad

It’s been a few days since I marked the passing of my dad five years ago.

Though I have some of his traits, we weren’t alike at all. And that’s just the way it was, and as it is for many of us in relating to our parents.

One of these shared traits was wanderlust. He loved being on the move and I do too.

Dad’s last road trip, moving him from Phoenix to Salt Lake City.

On my visits to see him in Arizona, where he retired about the same time I actively picked up nature photography, I’d drag him out to a local preserve or botanical garden. He’d sit in a chair and I’d wander around – but not too far away so that I could check on him regularly.

Dad, bored with my birding, prepares to doze off…

As a repayment, I’d bring him to his local golf course to chat with the pro and staff in the golf shop, followed by a putting lesson and tips on the driving range. Golf wasn’t my interest but as I was raised around it, I do have an almost primal connection to the environment and under my dad’s tutelage that formed some of my earliest memories, I have a decent swing, for a non-player as he’d like to say.

Time is short, our differences may be many. But the memories are constant.  When I look at any photos I’ve taken in Arizona or Utah (his home state), I’m thankful for that time.

My first (and a rare) selfie — we both were’t exactly sure how we’d look.