It’s my dad’s 62nd birthday, and we’re about to head out to lunch, but I had to wish him a happy birthday here, too.
For seven years, he read every word I wrote for my high school and college newspapers before they went to print, and he remains my best editor. More importantly, best friend. If you are in any way a fan of my writing – queue the boos – he’s a major reason, if not the major reason. I’ve had a blessed career so far, and quite simply, I wouldn’t have if not for him.
Love you pop, happy birthday, enjoy the pastrami and chopped liver on rye you’re about to eat.