my father

Discussng Walt Whitman with Dad

 The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections,

They scorn the best I can do to relate them.

I am enamoured of growing outdoors,Of men that live among cattle or taste of the ocean or woods,

Of the builders and steerers of ships, of the wielders of axes and mauls, of the drivers of horses,

I can eat and sleep with them week in and week out.

All my life I wanted to live on a farm, own a horse and some livestock, grow food and work with the earth.  I have only managed to do that vicariously through books.
It was my father who instilled in me a love for reading and knowledge.  He now lives in a nursing home, suffering from Alzheimers.  He can only read magazines now, which he does all day.  He does not remember my name, but he remembered who Walt Whitman was when I showed him the biography.

Discussng Walt Whitman with Dad

 The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections,

They scorn the best I can do to relate them.

I am enamoured of growing outdoors,Of men that live among cattle or taste of the ocean or woods,

Of the builders and steerers of ships, of the wielders of axes and mauls, of the drivers of horses,

I can eat and sleep with them week in and week out.

All my life I wanted to live on a farm, own a horse and some livestock, grow food and work with the earth.  I have only managed to do that vicariously through books.
It was my father who instilled in me a love for reading and knowledge.  He now lives in a nursing home, suffering from Alzheimers.  He can only read magazines now, which he does all day.  He does not remember my name, but he remembered who Walt Whitman was when I showed him the biography.

Discussng Walt Whitman with Dad

 The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections,

They scorn the best I can do to relate them.

I am enamoured of growing outdoors,Of men that live among cattle or taste of the ocean or woods,

Of the builders and steerers of ships, of the wielders of axes and mauls, of the drivers of horses,

I can eat and sleep with them week in and week out.

All my life I wanted to live on a farm, own a horse and some livestock, grow food and work with the earth.  I have only managed to do that vicariously through books.
It was my father who instilled in me a love for reading and knowledge.  He now lives in a nursing home, suffering from Alzheimers.  He can only read magazines now, which he does all day.  He does not remember my name, but he remembered who Walt Whitman was when I showed him the biography.