when i wore these among a group of friends, i was told i looked like my dad.
maybe not the look i was trying to achieve (looking like a today-60 year old man), but there is another way i think of it (of course).
the glasses through which my dad looks at the world are strong. they are rosy until injustice is noticed, then they are crystal clear. there is a passion that he lives with that gets things done. he is honored in his neighborhood, called “pastor” or “coach” or “papa” by the many (often fatherless) young people walking by. he is appreciated, celebrated, and loved…the way it should be.
my prayer for you…take off your glasses and have a moment of rest.
I draw prayer round me like a dark protective wall, withdraw inside it as one might into a convent cell and then step outside again, calmer and stronger and more collected again.
Etty Hillesum
An Interrupted Life
happy birthday dad. we love you.
prairie daze 
Your dad I’m sure doesn’t remember me, but I love him too for what he did for an insecure high school student in a small, South Dakota town.
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I don’t see the physical resemblance, but I sure do appreciate the words about your dad. And I like thinking of kids calling him coach and papa. Yeah. You’ve got a dear one!
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that is an amazing description – spot on – and once again i am humbled to share a birthday with such an amazing person
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as in facebook language, I “Like this”. :) I am one who appreciates your dad, too. He is an infinite part of my good memories.
I am still so grateful for Chuck’s contribution in my and Ladd’s wedding. He played an irreplaceable part in our fantastic day.
I am so glad to have the privilege to know you, Chuck!!
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