To dive head first into the concrete, it’s been over 17 years since i’ve seen my father. He died of a lung cancer that is still almost as universally terminal now as it was when it ravaged his healthy never-smoked-ran-frequently-and-far-ate-oatmeal-tuna-and-veggies-for-breakfast-everyday body. On the other hand, i do hear his voice. No nearly often enough, but… Continue reading No more sob stories and the Inigo in all of us