Today is the birthday of one Jesse Dye, my Dad and my role model. an essay from his son.

To sum my Dad up in 1000 words is about as easy as attempting to catch meteorites on my tongue, I have yet to give an accurate description of the man who's seed gave me life, I tell tales of heroism and humor about him on a daily basis, but they never come close to capturing the essence of him. A dyed in the wool military man who loves our country more than anyone I know, and to prove it all you have to see is the endless letters to congressmen and senators that spew from his computer on a daily basis, not only a vet but still in the service of us all, he is more relevant out of the service than in. Currently employed by Union Pacific, he has been responsible for a good deal of shenanigans, including mooning his superiors train as it goes by, doing what is right whether the "rule book" says so or not. I recently read Atlas Shrugged and realized that the kind of people that really make things happen and work are the ones with their own mind and opinion, and Pop shows that trait on a daily basis. He tells me many stories when i start to question myself and sometimes they pass over my head without me catching the real meaning, and then days or sometimes weeks it hits me, like an Aesop's fable but based on his life instead of the personification of animals. I remember events like snapshots in my kodak brownie of a melon,

Coastal fishing in Florida, catching sand fleas and attempting use them for bait on the elusive toad fish or so, and when a thunderstorm rolled in we sat under a styrofoam body board and waited it out instead of running back home, keeping our feet warm by sticking them under the sand. We watched the storm pass over and went back to fishing.

Driving in my Dad's old toyota corolla down dirt roads throwing rocks at signs and fence posts, probably the first time I ever steered a car, he would work the pedals, I worked the steering wheel and he would lean out and throw rocks, he has the advantage of being left handed, a trait that may be lost on some, but if you ever tried throwing anything out of the drivers side window not being left handed you usually end up doing a poor job at hitting anything.

I remember hitting that stupid phase where i thought my parents weren't that cool, we took a trip to the black forest and every chance my Dad got he would walk like a hunchback and act retarded just to embarrass me, it worked then, but after a while I came to the observation he was just showing me not to give a shit what other people think, it is more important to have fun than to keep up appearances.

Having a snow ball fight right in the middle of the street in Scheffau Austria after gorging on balkan food, we somehow unintentionally involved a good number of locals into our snow battle that didn't seem too happy about it but none the less rebounded with a fairly decent retaliation. on the same trip was my first taste of Apfelkorn, a apple schnapps like concoction that we consumed liberally on the train, using it to wash down vienna sausages and brazil nuts, fitting I thought. on the same trip, the hostel we stayed at gave you tokens for hot showers, and Dad always gave me his, a brave thing to do in the alps.

And then there was the myriad of scouting escapades all over europe, one of which was one of my first, Dad had just gotten back from a trip back to the states and he brought back a case of Nerds, the grape nuts for sugar addicted children everywhere, he would sneak a package into my sleeping bag every night, i of course found where he kept them once we got home and ate them like a rabid moose on steroids, after traveling myself so much as of late i realized that sticking a case of strange looking candy in my luggage through customs must have been some feat, all so his moose could ruin his teeth, that is love.

And in return for this love I chose not make the measly 3 hour drive to Weatherford to see him on his Birthday, not much of a son I am. but instead i started painting my bathroom and resorted to drinking beer and writing this essay. Dad, I love you more than i could ever tell you, I wish I had made the trip and sat and drank these beers in your company as you help me with your stories. I hope I am not falling too far from your tree, because you have provided a huge canopy for your saplings to grow under, thank you, I love you.

Your sugar addicted moose sapling.

Christopher