Dear John,
You might want to run and get Daddy, and read this letter with him.
I did mow this morning - not the grass, but the buckhorn. The grass, being sensible, is brown and dormant. Buckhorn will survive like the cockroaches. I started before 10:00 so it wasn't too bad. I left weeding for a cooler day.

We did other things together as a family. We fished when we could and did yard work together. I remember Daddy mowing, Mama trimming, and me sweeping the driveway and sidewalk. Since I grew up in SEC country, we watched football together. I was always outside with him when we grilled. Every day he came home from work, got a piece of cheese, and sat down with me in his lap. He shared his cheese with me until I got big enough to have my own piece. I remember one night when he brought blueprints home and I was fascinated by them. He explained that it was a bird's-eye view and told me what the symbols meant. I remember the moment it clicked in my head and I understood. I could still draw that particular factory floor from memory.
So, tonight, please give Daddy my love. Tell him how grateful I am for all the time he spent with me when I was little, for teaching me how to bait a hook and gut a fish, ride a bike, and read a blueprint. And tell him that, in his honor, I had a tomato sandwich for lunch today. Be sure to thank him yourself, too. After all, you love me and I'm so much like him - I am largely his fault. And Mama always said that he could never deny paternity since I look exactly like him. Give him a big hug from me, and tell him how much I look forward to seeing him again.
Love to all the old folks at home. There's where my heart is turning ever!
Joan.
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