My Dad

Ronald Day Thomas

12/2/34 - 4/19/87

Today would have been my dad's 80th birthday.  I can hardly fathom what that would be like, but boy do I wish I was lighting up 80 candles on a homemade chocolate cake...

I lost him when he was just 52.  Not fair.  Not fair at all.

I have very few pictures of my dad. I fear they are forever lost.  This makes me so very sad and is the number one reason why I take pictures.  Why I record memories.  Why I scrapbook.

1960
I'm guessing just before I was born.

He was so very handsome.  I can remember watching him craft that classic duck-tail hairdo and the smell of Brylcreem.  Carried the little black comb in his back pocket.

He was very strong. I used to hang from those tattooed biceps (aka guns).

He was a charmer.  He'd never met a stranger.

He was the life of the party. A  funny man.  He used to write down jokes and keep them in his wallet.

He was a wanderer.  A nomad.  He traveled the Continental US in an 18-wheeler.

He died in that truck.

He was my dad.

Man.  I loved this man.

This is one of my very favorite pictures...even though it's blurry. That picture on the table? My mom.

Yes.  He was a smoker in his early years, but would later quit.
Yes.  That's a real newspaper, pretty sure it was the comics.
Yes.  Loved a good cup of coffee.

Very "Leave-It-To-Beaver-esque" right?

He was 26 when I was born.

I was 26 when he died.

And today...I have lived exactly 1/2 of my life without him.