Father's Day. Minus One, Plus One.

This is my first Father's Day since my own father died.  And my first one as a Grandfather.

I am on my own this weekend, the kids up and out, the wife off on a trip.  She worries that it is unseemly to leave me alone on Father's Day.

Nah.

Guys don't make a big deal out of it.  I don't want or need any silly gifts that traditionally get handed out today.  I don't wear ties for work any longer.  I already have a barbecue grill.

My sons are all turning out just fine, and in my book no better gift on this or any other day could be had.  My own father would not have been one to put it into words but pretty much felt the same way.

So I guess that means I am bereft of soft, sappy feelings on the day - designated by the makers of cards, ties and barbecue grills - for soft sappiness.

Well.  We were cleaning the garage the other day and found a trove of old sports equipment.  Some just had to be tossed out but there were a few keepers.  One thing we found was this very small baseball glove.  It probably belonged to our oldest son.  We spent a lot of time playing catch out in the yard but this glove is so small that he likely outgrew it very quickly.

They really do grow fast.  So I decided that my son, a Father himself now, should have it.  He can get back to playing catch in his own yard shortly.