Today I was looking at some old photos on Facebook, posted by a high school classmate of mine, Jeff Lusenhop. He got his high school graduation photos digitized and had posted a few.
Scarily bad 1971 clothes and hairstyles on people I haven't thought about for many years. I immediately recognized Sheri and Teri, the identical, incredibly nice, cheerleading twins, in matching white dresses, leggy and tanned as they always were (and shall be forever, in my memory).
Then suddenly, there's my dad, looking relaxed and happy, smiling and looking down at his camera as he walks through the crowd. An amazing coincidence--he's just background noise in Jeff's graduation photos, some stranger who wandered into their family's photo album.
It is lovely to see him; he was younger at that moment than I am now, in the middle of his life on a beautiful, celebratory summer day in downtown Dayton. I realize once again how much I miss him, and am once again grateful for how much of him lives on in me: my love of words, my work ethic, and, I confess, my penchant for a good argument.
(Thanks to Jeff Lusenhop for posting this photo.)
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