Edgar 'Red' Grady

Today Is the 30th anniversary of my dad's passing. It sort of snuck up on me. 30 is no different from 29, except that it's a nice round number which makes it a milestone, I suppose.

I’ve got plenty of ‘dad stories,’ and I share them with my own kids regularly. There are a couple of small items from his office that sit near my desk – his letter opener, or a gift from one of his patients that I used to see in his study. His naval rank shoulder tabs are on the wall of my home office.

Dad Is the reason I still occasionally stop at Arby’s. Despite the fact that everything on the menu stretches the definition of ‘food’ by an uncomfortable margin, it’s the place he would consistently take me after visiting his hospital patients. It’s like he had seen so much illness and recovery, he felt it was ok to laugh in the face of Death by ordering a Beef ‘n’ Cheese

Dad was imperfect in many ways. He had a sense of humor, a medical genius, a temper, and a southern gentility that stands out in my memory. He was also a bit racist, certainly homophobic, complicated and flawed in other ways that I probably never knew, since he passed away a few days after my 17th birthday. But above all, he cherished family. OK… his four marriages are testament that despite his other virtues, he wasn’t necessarily that good at family, or very easy to live with. But he never, ever stopped trying.

There's a lot of gifts he gave me, in habits and humor and interests. But that's probably the best gift of all.