Honoring one's father

I spent the afternoon today in southern NJ at the memorial service of my friend's father.  This particular friend was one who was an integral part of those formative years of high school and college--we grew apart over time but keep in touch once a year or so.

I think we'll be communicating more regularly now.

He gave a great eulogy honoring his father's life, a man who fought in the Korean War and worked in the Foreign Service as a lithographer.  I found out some new nuggets about this man, such as the fact that he played semi-pro soccer in Mexico City as a young man.  He was one of my baseball coaches, and I learned much from him.  I can't say all of my memories were pleasant, as he was a stern taskmaster as a coach and didn't suffer my teenage idiocy gladly, but he kept me on an even keel throughout.  A great man--last time I saw him was at my wedding almost 19 years ago.  His genuine glee about being there was heartfelt and a great memory for me.

At the beginning of his eulogy, Kurt scanned the crowd.  He saw me in the back corner of the church and our buddy Ronnie at the opposite rear corner.  I flashed him the peace sign, he acknowledged his two teammates at first and third, and brought it home.