Cryin' for your Daddy drunk

OK, so there is a bit of hyperbole there. I've always loved Lewis Grizzard's line and wanted to steal it. So I did.

Today is the 100th anniversary of my Daddy's birth, which is reason enough for a trip to Kentucky, if not for drinking.

He was a kind and gentle man, and he deserved a better hand than life dealt him.

He hated it, but he eventually had to come down from the mountain to take a factory job. We brought him home to bury him at age 56.

You don't have to be drunk to cry for your Daddy.


You just have to remember.