One more post related to "my dad turned 80 ..."

One of the gifts we gave him was 

a letter from each of his grandchildren

recounting some of their favorite memories

of life with "Grandpa Dave."

Here's what I noticed:

None of the memories had to do with money.

None had to do with a big, fancy vacation.

None had to do with effort, or forethought, or intensive planning.


Not one.

Instead, each memory was

incredibly "ordinary."

A moment that, while it was happening, if you blinked,

you might have missed it.

Some wrote about playing basketball together at the YMCA on New Year's Eve.

Others wrote about the family card game we always play, complete with prizes from Walgreens.

One wrote about a look of approval my dad gave her when she thought of others ahead of herself.

Several wrote about the power of my dad's presence in the stands at one of their athletic competitions.

One wrote about the power of a hand-written letter of encouragement my dad wrote to him after a major athletic loss.

Do you understand the point?

Each of these treasured memories in these young people's lives

was a very ordinary thing,

that happened in a very ordinary way,

on a very ordinary day.

Much like this day.

What happens today ...

how you smile,

what you say,

what you write,

how you laugh,

has the power, the potential, the possibility 

of being






or memory

for the people you love.

Don't miss it, friends ...

This ordinary day,

every ordinary day,