Lens cap?

So, I'll start by contributing two stories here. I need to cull through some of the pics to isolate my favorite one (I so wish we could find ole 'yellow canoe' in there somewhere, but I think it's lost to equipment failure). I'll slap something up in a subsequent post.

Anyway, the first story I'd like to share is the first time I met my father-in-law-to-be. Stacey and I had come up to Lake Minisink (the Poconos) for a day out on the dock. The whole family was there, relaxing quietly. Dennis was looking (for like a whole MINUTE) through a set of binoculars across the lake at something-or-other when I noticed that both lens covers were still on both lenses. I was stumped. Did I mention that he'd been looking through the covered-up lenses already for like a whole MINUTE? Was this guy testing me to see if I'd say something? Were these maybe not lens covers and just some fancy-schmantzy outdoorsy gadget? Well, me being me, I took the plunge and asked what was going on. Dennis looked at me like 'ok wiseass, you got me this time', and then he laughed (trust me, I've gotten sufficient payback :-). I tell you this story first because I think a sense-of-humor is the clearest telltale of a good man, and the fact that my father-in-law can laugh at himself and mean it is something I appreciate.

The second story is more serious. The closest tie between Dennis and me is of course, Stacey. Stacey, as most who will read this know, is a two-time breast cancer survivor. I wasn't around for the first one, but I was there standing next to her when we got the news the second time. Of course, we couldn't have handled the whole ordeal without the love and support of everybody around us. But, I think back to the moment when I opened the door when Dennis, Linda and Michael arrived at our doorstep right before Stacey's surgery. Dennis was the face at the door when I opened it. And I'd be lying to you if I didn't admit that seeing him, yes concerned, but at the same time ready to tackle this together gave me a sense of relief that I hadn't felt in many days. I knew that the family was there for Stacey, and that anything we needed would be given, but, in a strange way, I felt like Dennis (and Linda, and Mike too of course, but turn sixty and maybe I write this in your blog ;-) was there for me personally. I can't say thanks enough of course, but I can at least scrawl it down to reflect on how important this event was to me.

So in two stories, I hope that I can communicate to Dennis and other readers how important this man has been to me as a family member. Happy 60th Birthday.

You old fart :-)