BUY WHOLESALE PHOTO FRAMES

I don't have too many photos of my dad, this being one of about three or four. The fact that we did not really talk or see each other for 17 years and that he currently lives in Vermont have played influential roles in that situation.

There are a lot of things I can say about my father, but I will just skim the top. He is a Vietnam vet, served as a Marine in the DMZ, and did two tours there. Learned to surf along the Vietnam coast. He liked the service, was disappointed when he came home. Never talked much about it though. I remember being about seven and coming across a photo album of his that had snaps from the war, including one image of bodies in a field. But he just put it away and never said much.

He was also a truck driver, and damn proud of it. Not too long ago, he said he wished he could still be out there driving. The first thing he did when he got his commercial license was take his truck up to Paradise on Mt. Rainier, where he says he would like his ashes spread one day. Plenty of fond memories of days that began before dawn and playing, lounging and sleeping in the sleeper cab of a semi while trundling over Snoqualmie Pass.

He was also an alcoholic and a chain smoker. Some days he would drink til he passed out in the living room, and my brother and I would just go outside and play frisbee or toss the football. Whether he was trying to drown certain things or not, he certainly set an example, and while not entirely the reason, it no doubt plays a significant role in why I don't drink any alcohol.

He loves the outdoors and camping. Every summer my brother and I could look forward to one or two really good camping trips. We would haul out to some lake with the camper on his truck and a canoe for several days of fishing, campfires, shooting rifles, canoeing and the like.

He also loves animals, especially dogs. Growing up, we must have had six or so dogs, sometimes as many as three at a time. I don't think he was ever without a dog, until now that is. But now he has two cats. One winter there was a mutt that kept scrounging in our backyard. My dad kept driving it off with the pellet gun until one cold morning he found the dog lying in our backyard with his stomach torn open from a fight with another dog. My dad bundled it up and took it in to the vet and saved its life. Then brought him home and nursed him back to health. One day they were driving around and my dad passed a Hoagie's restaurant. When he said the name out loud the dog immediately perked up, so from then on the dog was named Hoagie. We also had a dog that was part Great Dane and lived up to the Great part. My brother and I could ride him like a pony. His name was Moose. Hehe.

He is not a violent man, despite the time in Vietnam and the alcohol. But he did beat my mom once so badly he put her in the hospital. I was four, but still remember that day. They divorced not long after, and while they worked together to allow my brother and I visits with him, they never got over that. That was the only time I ever saw him do anything violent.

He is an avid football fan, especially for the Seahawks and Vikings. My first Mariners and Seahawks games were with him, in the Kingdome at that, which is no longer there. I got free Seahawks tickets one year for my grades in school and still remember that game, mostly just how small the players look from the stands. Ha.

He gave me an appreciation for good, old country music, like Hank Williams, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, Alabama, Reba McEntire and the like. I am not a big country fan, and even less so for what is now considered country music (but isn't really, just pop music with a twang), but I do still appreciate the music of many of the bands that he played so often, especially Williams and Cash. My first concert was the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band with him and my brother at the state fair in Puyallup when I was about 10.

We had a falling out my freshman year of high school and didn't talk to each other for several years. During that time he suffered two strokes, the second of which was major (he was out hunting, doing what he enjoyed at least) and that left him paralyzed in the right side of his body and with a severe speech impediment. He had to move from his home in Seattle to California briefly to live with his sister as he needed a caregiver. That fell through and he ended up in Vermont where he has lived for over a decade now. He also quit drinking, completely.

A few years ago, Wendi and I made the trip out there so he could meet his grandson. It was a good trip, and not just because our timing was perfect for the New England fall colors. And really, it was perfect timing. Anyway, it was a good visit. He was thrilled to meet Owen. It was definitely a good thing, though complicated, to see him again after so long and so much had changed. But some things don't change, no matter what, and one of those is that a father remains a father, at

Hunt Library on the Carnegie Mellon University campus, in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania