My father was a hard-working man. He worked early mornings before school as a teenager to help support his family. He worked as a young man while attending business school to prepare himself for professional work. Nothing was more important to him than providing for his family and, when we were children, he worked nearly every day to insure that he did. When he retired, my mother became ill and he became, at her insistence, her sole caregiver. When he fell ill, he worked hard to be well again. He rarely had a moments rest but when he did, he spent it fishing or camping. If we were lucky, we got to spend a day with him boating in Tampa Bay, swimming in the Gulf of Mexico, or fishing in the quiet sloughs of the Withlacoochee River. I hope that as his spirit leaves this earth, it travels along these banks and shores. We already miss him more than words can say but I think we will always find him in those clear waters where he found peace in nature.