… its my Dad’s birthday. He shuffled off this mortal coil when I was 12. In the few years I got to know him he was sickly. Nevertheless, he was a knight. Fighting the fight and yet maintaining courage and dignity throughout with gentle humor.
His stories are what I remember most. Fantabulous tales that he would spin from his sick-bed. My cousins and I would be totally engrossed with the wonder of the worlds he could create. The only man I knew who could send chills through the veins on a sunny afternoon and with the next story weave a tapestry of magic that embraced you with the longing for a lost love.
I raise a toast to Harold Carlos Nunis. I am honored to be your son. Happy Birthday, Dad.