You know Dad.
I always said "Yeah! I wanna go crazy" too bad I didn't realize how true that was for you, and how true it would become for me.
My father was a good man. I like to believe this. I like to imagine how great of a man who could've been. Problem was that he was an alcoholic, abuser and an addict.
But..he was so much more. He knew EVERYTHING. No lie. You could ask him how many people lived in Bismark, he knew. You could give him any place and he'd know how to get home. He was the "crazy white man" of the block..yet all the kids respected him. One time, I remember clearly, we went to the local pond to go fishing, and upon seeing the growing number of kids without poles watcing in envy he gathered up sticks, tied a string to them, added a hook and some bait and soon there were twenty more kids fishing beside me.
He also knew he was dying of alcoholism. He told my mom. Neither of them did anything.
He bled to death on his bedroom floor. Alone. The last day I saw or spoke to him was 1/1/06.
He died the fifth. He was 45. He was my hero. My mistaken hero.