When I was a kid, I didn't see my father much, not because he deserted us, but because he was supporting his family working 50+ hour weeks at his job. His job is not what most people would call glamorous, but I always found his ability to build something from nothing amazing. He's 62 now, and despite aching knees, he keeps working, donning a tool belt and speckled jeans (paint or Sheetrock mud). He's been married 39 years to my mother, and I feel blessed to have this carpenter, plumber, electrician, designer, painter, landscaper, mechanic, grill master, angler, deer hunter, bowler, lumberjack, farmer, soldier, firefighter, loan officer, chauffeur, hero (I'm sure there's more) as my loving father. He may have been too busy to hug before but they mean so much more now. I love you, dad!