Do you remember the Saturday morning when I was fourteen and a group of young people from First Church in Newark was going to Old Man’s Cave? I wanted to go. You got up early. You made me lunch. You gave me a little spending money. You drove me to the church. The parking lot was empty. I was disappointed. You found out they were picking kids up across town. You drove there. They were gone. I was disappointed. You didn’t give up. You tried to catch up with them. We couldn’t find them. You drove over an hour more all the way to Old Man’s Cave. They were not there. You drove from one point of interest to another until finally we found the bus and connected with the group. You told me to have a great day. You drove all the way home alone. You drove back that night to pick me up at the church. You were waiting in the parking lot when the bus pulled in. We talked all the way home. I don’t remember what we said. I don’t remember if I thanked you. It’s been about thirty-five years. I still think about that day. I wonder if you really know how much I love you and how grateful I am for all the times you and Mom went way, way out of the way for me.
I haven’t forgotten. I never will. Thank you.
August 25, 2008