Earlier today I finished it (I wanted literally to sleep on it) by pasting down the images, chalking the white edges of the printed photos black, putting yellow ink on the 1951 Mercury convertible, and trimming the edges of the card. I called dad to confirm the color of the car they-brought-me-home from the hospital and ask what year it was. Doesn't mom's belly look pregnant with me? hehehheh!
I am so grateful to have my daddy as my father. He is the one who taught me how to catch a fly ball and fish, to tell silly jokes and stretch the truth for a laugh, to eat plain ol' mustard on burnt hot dogs, and see the humor in life. By role modeling, he is the one who taught me how to work hard and have strong work ethics, along with simple and straightforward values for being a good person. He is the one who my Girl Scout friends always wanted to get a ride with, who always treated my boy friends kindly (even if he didn't like them), and who is the most sentimental person in our family. He is the one who loves his family, enjoys to golf, camp and fish, savors his steaks and time with grandchildren, and is one of the handiest guys around a house you will ever meet. He is my daddy, Alan Edward McCoy, who I love deeply and I sure hope he knows that.
