Happy 80th Papa Butch, From your Son of a Butch! Phew. 1942 to 2022...There's Definitely A Few Stories To Be Told. Love You, Dad.

I remember driving to Sherburne and celebrating my Grandma Vera's 80th birthday party (someone gave me a camcorder and I made it a documentary on hearing aids). Last night, I started my robo-vacuum and when it asked me to name her, I called her Vera. I don't know anyone who was clean as her. I miss her every day. And I realize that I am around the age my father was during that party and I recognize the grays. Long gone are the days when my father comes home from work with a perm - we used to say he was trying to be Mr. Brady or a character on Mash.

Yes, today is my father's 80th celebration of life...1942 to 2022. It's almost crazy to comprehend. Born during WWII in Sherburne, New York, living through Korean, Vietnam, Panama, Gulf, and now Ukranian wars, this man of pit crew dads, little league, Clam Bar, Chubby's, Oneida Lake, Bud Light, Amalfi Drive, Karl, mowed lawns, and snow-blown driveways is 8 decades old. It's pretty amazing and you can't help but applause, love, and cherish such a milestone.

He is vintage, 1942. And I'm thankful for all his love, support, guidance, shelter, coaching, mentoring, yelling, yelling and yelling all those years ago in Cherry Heights. He's the Superman of the Crandall crew, and we love him very, very much. 

What?

DAD! WE LOVE YOU VERY, VERY MUCH. 

Huh?

BUTCH, BRYAN IS TELLING YOU THAT HE LOVES YOU!

And I'm wishing my father a very Happy Birthday today, wanting to be there for cake, family, love, and cheers. You deserve all the attention you'll receive today. 

Here's to you, Dad, and another 80 more!