Today would have been my father's 88th birthday. "Pawboy" is one of many affectionate nicknames I had for my dad. It was a play on words from the television series in the 1970's "The Waltons". John Boy was the main character and he called his father "paw". So I combined the two words Paw and Boy, my form of a tribute to the country setting where my father grew up. He was my hero in many ways and taught me a great deal about the value of humor and awareness. He was a giving man who had the wisdom of Plato. My pawboy perished in a fire that consumed my childhood home on Friday May 13, 1994. I'll write about the fire another day. There's hardly a moment since that he has not been on my consciousness and he is a guiding force in my sense of obligation to the Truth. I never questioned God "why". In the moment I understood that my father had passed, I was keenly aware that I had no desire to question the will of God. It was the most powerful lesson I've ever had in understanding acceptance. Acceptance is the root of a peaceful existence within. I miss my pawboy. He still laughs in my heart every day.