In making the drive from Olympia to Porter I had lots of time to remember my dad. As a child I didn't appreciate the adult world my parents lived in and as a teenager even less, but looking back now as I follow them into retirement I see how they struggled with but enjoyed life. I recently lost my son, Tim Jr, and that loss opened my eyes a little bit. I was asked to describe him in one word and found that to be a very difficult task, so on the long drive down here for this event I pondered on the question of distilling my father into one word. Many words ran through my troubled brow as the miles rolled away, but they were either weak or only one side of his whole being. My dad was caring, loving, uplifting, mentoring, a prat fall, supportive, a storyteller, a kind word, an arm around your shoulder, a hug or even just a smile. I rarely saw him panic and he could be the calm in the eye of the storm. But most important of all he could be harsh when it was required. Then I remembered the truck he gave me when I needed a vehicle to get from Porter to Norfolk during my Navy days. It was the same 69 Chevy pickup, Old Red, that he let me drive in high school. I still have that 50 year old truck and it still runs. Like that old truck my dad was most of all, reliable. In fact, he was the most reliable man I will ever know. He could be counted on to be there for you, even if he had just met you. In this time where everyone is labeled and separated into more and more divisive groups he could look past that and see a person. Something we should all do. Even from thousands of miles away I relied on my dad to be there, but now? I will carry him in my heart and try to be reliable in his stead. I love you and miss you, dad.