My son was born on this day in 1967. He had colic and cried constantly, and when I was desperate for a break, Cliff would take him for a ride on my dad's garden tractor. As he grew, we spanked him too much, and too hard. We had seen so many bratty kids, and were positive ours would NOT act that way. Poor kid. One of the things I would go back and change... Jimmy would not have so much expected of him.
There he is at one year old. I thought (and still think) there was never a more beautiful baby.
That's Cliff, Jim, and Cliff's dad holding baby Arick: four generations. Jim was just out of boot camp in this photo, I believe.
Where does the time go?
I love you, Jim.