Our Old Dad

Be like Mr. Walker and expect nothing for it. 04/13/2026 Hey, Dudes! Years ago, I moved back down to Boulder from Nederland. I was still working full time at IBM and also doing work for a friend who owned a computer hardware wholesaler in Boston. Things were going pretty well for me then, if you take my disastrous love life out of the equation. Looking back, I can see that the restlessness that brought me down from the mountains was about to disrupt everything completely. But I did not see that then. I just knew it was time. Or maybe more accurately, I just knew I was being directed. I rented a nice house in North Boulder, catty-corner from the open space that led to the North Boulder Rec Center. It was my first time living in that part of town, and I liked it. Next door lived a man named Mr. Walker. His family had owned the Walker Ranch that was later donated to the Boulder County open space program. He was close to ninety years old. ...

Hey, Dudes! As I embark on this journey of directly communicating with you through this blog, I’m grappling with the essence of honesty. How transparent should I be? Can I dare to expose my imperfections, those not cushioned by humor or light-heartedness? Despite my efforts to conceal them, you’ll likely see that my flaws are a substantial part of me, providing more than enough unflattering material to define me if I let them. This journey into uncharted honesty is daunting, yet it feels crucial. In this pursuit of openness, I'll start with a small confession: I often worry about how much time I have left to know you both. My father passed away when he was 53, just as my youngest sister turned 16. I'm now older than he was at his passing, and you aren’t even here yet. It's a race against time for me, and if I'm blessed with longevity, I hope you'll be reading this on your own, while I’m still sharp enough to discuss it with you. If that day comes, remind me to cheri...