My father died 27 years ago yesterday. I was thinking about my memories of him -- both positive and negative -- yesterday as I was jogging. My dad had a genius IQ, but refused to join MENSA. He considered it a snob organization. Dad was a reverse snob -- a snob about snobs. He was well-read, well-rounded man, with a large home library he had pretty much committed to memory. He was conversant in art, literature, history, and science. He was a scientist by profession (analytical chemist) and loved to ask questions. He had a smart-alecky, intellectual sense of humor which got passed down to yours truly. He was vaguely Christian, but I now suspect he was something of an agnostic, or maybe I'm just projecting. He had no use for organized religion and was excommunicated from the local Presbyterian Church when my mother became a Mormon. He was proud of being from Louisiana and the South. I remember having a rebel flag over our treehouse. However, he strongly favored the civil rights movement and Dr. King.

On the flipside, my father could never remember how old I was or what grade I was in. He wanted a son who could play football and other team sports; I had bad knees and loved swimming. He wanted a son who loved fishing, an activity that still bores me to tears. I was, however, willing to paddle the canoe while he fished, as I love paddling.

Anyhow, that was my dad.