The following is a shortened version of a post (from Dec. 06) about my Dad. He had a bad accident at the care home yesterday (Friday) and long story short, broke his hip. Turns out the xrays indicate he'd broken the same hip further down some time in the past and it had healed on its own. Now I know my Dad is one tough old coot, but imagine the pain he must have endured, thinking it was probably a pulled muscle. He was quite the athlete in his day (as you'll read below) and was never one to give in to a bit of pain. The photo is from last October when we celebrated Thanksgiving and my birthday together and you can see his great sense of humour. It's unbelieveable how he's declined so fast this past year. He sure doesn't look 86, does he?
I've learned a lot about my Dad in the last several years. It's helped me to understand him as a person, not just as my father. He was lucky not to have had to go overseas during WWII, but he was a pilot in the Royal Canadian Air Force training other pilots and patroling the East Coast of Canada for submarines and enemy aircraft. He never talked much about the war until recently and it's been fascinating to hear his stories.