My dad is a man of many, many words, but each has purpose.
For whatever the quest, whatever the impasse he has a suggestion or anecdote at the ready. He'll tell you if he thinks there's a better way. At the same time, he leaves it at that. Whatever path you take is yours, and he's with you whatever the outcome.
Because of him, I know that it is possible for a man not only to feel and to care, but also to express this unabashedly. He wears his heart on his sleeve, his face, his whole semblance.
He is not much for pretense. He can smell that stink from a mile away; can hear the hollow ring. Perhaps it is because he is hard wired to feel things intimately, intensely, and to reflect these feelings just as surely. He leaves no doubt. You always know where you stand, and where he stands: an honest and sure-footed place hard to come by elsewhere in life.
Here's wishing that I could be sitting with you now, dad, sharing words over coffee, fried eggs, hash browns, bacon, and toast...rye, of course.