Happy Father's Day!!

That's my story, and I'm sticking with it...

One of my favorite memories of my "dad time" was playing street hockey with him, in our back lane in Winnipeg. Any reader familiar with Winnipeg knows that there is snow on the ground there pretty much 10 months of the year, so we always had lots of time to play.

Actually, it really wasn't so much playing hockey, as it was me standing in front of a net, and Dad pelting me with slapshots. With a cold tennis ball instead of a puck, thank God...

Dad could almost rifle one of those through cement, and that was with a traditional slapshot. On several occasions, he would hold the hockey stick like a golf club, and really put some mustard on it. Even with me wearing a wire back-catcher's mask, he could bend the metal, or spin the mask around to the back of my head, if he hit me in that area.

That didn't matter. It was time together,which is what this day always brings back. With two bad hips, he can't snipe at me with tennis balls anymore (and I can't fit into my old ski pants either...wattaya gonna do), but I bet given half a chance, he'd still pack a punch with a hockey stick and a tennis ball...

Chow for now!!