Dad

Don't tell him if you see him, but here in a few minutes, I'll take Dad a John Wayne DVD for Father's Day. Above all else, whenever I see Duke forging a trail somewhere on the big screen, I always think of Dad.

My pop was so cool. Circumstances meant that for most of my growing up years, I only would see him on Wednesday nights ("Magnum, p.i." at 9 p.m.) and every other weekend.

But it worked out. There for awhile, he'd occasionally take me along on dates. Most of his girlfriends were babes, so this was cool, too.

We've seen a lot of UT home games together. We've watched a lot of westerns, listened to a lot of music. I remember staying up late to watch the last episode of "M*A*S*H" and a whole bunch of Monday Night Football games together.

I guess my favorite times together were in the little house on Norris Freeway. It had a wood burning stove that would scald the place in a wintertime; it also had a window unit that got the house so cold in summertime you could hang meat.

Saturday mornings meant Bugs Bunny cartoons of course. Dad would fix us egg sandwiches. And chocolate milk --- always chocolate milk.

People started telling me I looked like him, laughed like him. It's a compliment, trust me.

These days, we talk about once every day or two. We still go to UT games together. He's my hero, no doubt about it.

Well, Dad, sorry we missed a lot of growing up time together. But it turned out OK.

I got a best friend out of the deal.