I awoke this morning feeling quite proud; as , on this date, a number of years ago, my first-born took her first breath of fresh air. Also, on this date; years later, a grandson entered into everyones' life when born to a second daughter. I am blessed with several additional grandchildren, by my five daughters, each special in so many ways and vastly prized and loved by both myself and my wife. Having lost a daughter, in that horrific Phil Campbell, Alabama tornado, on April 11, 2011; strong inner feelings instantly well up inside everytime a trigger presents itself; and believe me when I state that those triggers are never far from the hearts' surface. We that lose loved ones carry on but grieve intimately in ways that never allow a forgotten moment. I see my fathers' shoes as I enter my bathroom to freshen up first thing this morning. Martha gave me two pairs of Dads' shoes shortly after his passing. I cherish these shoes and proudly wear them a great deal. I can tell they need a polishing as it has been a week or so since I last touched them up. So, with many thoughts of my Dad ruminating through my mind, this morning, I cleaned and added new polish to both pairs of shoes knowing that Dad would greatly approve. Dad took good care of his shoes and also of his feet. I can remember seeing him carefully inserting specially-made arch supports inside his shoes, transferring them from one pair to another when changing shoes to wear. He would sometimes exclaim how these devices would support and comfort his "flat feet" from earlier days, including his Army experiences. Dads' shoes polish up nice and it feels good to have them on as they are not only comfortable to wear but also serve to keep Dads' memories flowing within my spirit. Proud days represent times involving loved ones and days of special achievements and happen-stances. Times are not always easy to bear but one thing I am acutely aware of is the fact that my father always shared in his loved ones' pains. If there was a way he thought might help, if within his power, he always offered. Dad had a sensitive spirit. I'm not saying that, in every case, all minds were always on an even keel, but I will say, as a fact, that there was never a misgiving without some form of heartache on either side. Dads' sensitivity never allowed an issue to weigh on ones' heart for very long. His spirit was never quite settled until all concerns were at rest. My Dad possessed a compassionate spitit that, wrong or right, was always sensitive and influential to my heart. I will always feel lucky and proud to have shoes once worn by him available to walk in myself through upcoming days in my life. These shoes are made to last and now serve in helping to keep alive special memories of Dad flowing through my mind each time my gaze casts upon them. Thanks again, Martha, and thanks to you Dad for being in my life for so long. Love, Jimmy.