I 
had a dream about dad, last night. In my dream, it was nighttime and I was in St. Helena at The Church That Dad Built. People had gathered on the lawn outside of the church, some were sitting on chairs in a circles, some were following each other in a procession, and they were all talking about dad. It seemed that we had all come together to remember him and reminisce about all that he had given us in our lifetimes. I felt very moved that all of those people had come together to celebrate his life, and how fitting it was that we had all returned to the church to remember him.Tony and I commented yesterday how dad will always live in our home, too; he painted and installed a screen door on our front door, and we have stones from the church in St. Helena (that were part of the original building) outlining the flowers to the right of our driveway.
Today is Thanksgiving. For many people, today will be observed by spending time with family and eating an exorbitant amount of turkey and stuffing. Some people might converge with strangers to share a meal, or they'll gather and perhaps eat more modestly because they could not afford to buy all the traditional Thanksgiving preparations. Some, too, are without all of these such blessings, and are just trying to survive another day. Dad wants us to cherish what we have been given and think of those who need love on this day. He wants us to think about the soldiers who are fighting over seas and their families who long for them to return home safely, and for the families whose sons or daughters, sisters or brothers, mothers or fathers have died serving their country.
I want to extend my deepest gratitude to so many people on this day because my little family (Tony, mom, Becky and I) and I have been blessed by such precious gifts and so much love over the past several months since dad's passing, and what better day to say "thank you" than today.
I must sincerely thank my family--the Little's, the Venuto's, the Jackson's, the Arnett's, the Bloomstine's and Granlees. My appreciation for you spans lifetimes, and I will always be grateful for the love that you gave us during the time of our shared loss.
And for all of our friends--for those who we see more often than others (you give us strength every day), those who knew dad when he began his life with my mother, for those whom we saw on Sunday afternoons at the A's ballpark, especially those who remained friends with our family when every Sunday turned into two Sundays a year; for those whom dad and mom spend time with every day or on a frequent basis but whom Becky, Tony, and I only had the pleasure of visiting with on special occasions. For friends whom dad made the instant he met them but never saw again, for our neighbors, for friends with whom he taught, patrolled, battled, toasted, with whom he labored politically and with whom he served God in his church, I cannot say how much you mean to me and to my family. You are our "rights of line". You are in our hearts forever.
