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A horse trader once gave me some solid advice, He said you can sell the worst kind of broncs if his head looks nice. You can trade the sick, the mean, and the lame... But folks are bound to pay coin for a head that has game.

Dad left on Sunday. He flew home, having reached his limited tolerance for a life of leisure. Enough was enough. Sitting around in the sun, playing crib, and sipping beer is not for that old guy. He missed his car, his little camp shack, and most of all, his independence. I don't blame him. I'm sure when I'm 86, I will be the same way.