Buckeye Mike

I love being a Dad. More specifically, I love being a Dad to three sons who go by the names of John-Michael, Benjamin, and Tanner. The only thing I have ever really been sure of is that I was meant to be their father. From the moment that nurse Eva handed my oldest to me just after he was born to last night as I calmed Mr. Ben down after a falling out with his mother, brother, and, well, the whole neighborhood, there has never been any place I would rather be than with them. I have traveled this country from coast to coast, Canada to the gulf, and even spent some time in South America. I have great moments and memories I could share (and have) about each stop on the way. But on Monday, in a small, cramped, conference room inside an elementary school, I had one of the greatest moments of my life. And of course, it revolved around one of my boys. Even before Tanner was born, we knew he was going to have an uphill battle in life. The enlarged ventricles that had formed in his brain mean...

I have very often stated that music is the soundtrack of my life. I will be driving along a road somewhere and a song will come on the radio that takes me back to another place and time and the memories become so vivid I could swear I am standing in the moment when that song became forever etched in my memory, and became a part of who I am. Early in life, Smoky Mountain Rain by Ronnie Milsap played on my cassette deck on the nights that I would bury my head under the covers, hoping that man would not find another reason to hurt me before he passed out drunk. As I grew older, I can recall very distinctly my grandmother telling me very sternly not to sing that song when I belted out "Heaven's just a sin away" (The Kendall's) in her kitchen. Her famous spaghetti was cooking on the stove and she pulled a switch off the window ledge over the sink. I never sang that song again, but never forgot that moment. As a teenager who was a rebel without a clue, music continued to ...