Father’s Day

My dad taught me to collect rocks.  We loved them.  We searched for them in places far and near, scouring rock shops for flourspar in Rosiclare, IL to petrified wood in AZ.  Out west we often stopped alongside the highway just to look at the rocks,  marveling at how different they were and wondering how they were made.

It is said you anger the gods when you take rocks from a sacred place.

My dad used to say that family was the only people you could rely on and trust…well, that didn’t work out so well for him or me.

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