In 2004, I was thirty-three years old and just lost my father to suicide. That next year, I went through a period where I was trying to find myself and, in doing so, made a pilgrimage to visit my grandparents and other family who moved to Florida in recent years. I reconnected with my mom’s mom and stepfather (whom I know as “Grandmom and Grandpop Peterson”), my uncle Dave Smith and his family there in Panama City, in the Florida panhandle. As my Uncle Dave put it, “This is L.A. Lower Alabama.” This trip was exactly what I needed and I was able to recharge my batteries and become centered again. I learned a lot about myself during that time. Not only did I refresh my interest in being a better man, but I also came home wanting to become a Freemason like Grandpop and Uncle Dave. During the trip, I learned that Dave was Master of his Lodge and Grandpop said becoming a Mason was the best thing he ever did. That pretty much sealed it for me. I’m going to be a Mason. Continue reading
As children, and even adults, we follow our fathers’ footsteps and look to them for answers. “What would Dad do?” or “Let me ask Dad.” are common things that may go through one’s mind. Everyone who knew my father tells me how great he was. He excelled at everything he did. His personality was bigger than life and he was kind. He faced adversity with a rare combination of ferocity and excitement. Until he didn’t. At fifty-five years old my father, my hero, left this planet on his own accord. No. He didn’t spring for tickets aboard SpaceX. He drank a bottle of tequila and swapped an aspirin for a bullet.