Author: supersoling

I did not plan on writing a diary tonight. I am sick of writing. I’m sick of emailing. I’m sick of reading passionate calls to action being ignored. I’m sick of being ignored by the elite in Washington.

Answer this question for me.

HOW SICK ARE YOU?
Every time I read Rub DMC’s Iraq Grief diaries I get sick. Sick to learn that another innocent child of Middle Eastern descent has been murdered, yes, MURDERED by my country. Every time I pass the sign in my neighbor’s yard with the latest tally of American soldiers lost for a lie, I get sick. I want to throw up every last piece of my guts. Every time Ductape Fatwa makes my inbred American ass hate myself for my complacancy and my privelege, I get sick.
Every time I look at my son and envision his future I get sick. What battlefield will he be forced to die on and who’s child will he be forced to kill? I want to vomit!
Every time I envision my daughters being forced to carry pregnancy’s they can’t survive I want to get my hands around some fucking fundies neck and choke his ignorant, backwards life away for wanting to force his beliefs on my daughter’s lives. I get sick.
Everytime someone suggests I shut my mouth because I might get disappeared if I don’t, I feel rage and defiance.
Every time I hear of the death of Dr. King while we watch the bodies of our brothers and sisters left to rot in New Orleans for weeks I am sick. Sick.

This is my fucking country.
It’s history is full of murder and hypocrisy but it’s all I have to build on.
I WILL NOT LEAVE
I WILL FIGHT
MY HEART IS SICK BUT IT’S BEATING

My Grandchildren will know that I did not yeild to insanity.

What will your Grandchildren remember about you?

WHAT WILL YOU TELL YOUR GRANDCHILDREN?

Please,
It’s time.

[From the diaries by susanhu.]

I had been planning for some time now to write a diary about the recent Federal ruling recognizing the Shinnecock Nation of Eastern Long Island as a legitimate tribe. They have been struggling legally for many years now to attain this recognithion first I believe as a vehicle to fight for land they claim was illegally stripped from them in the 19th century, and second to begin the initial steps toward opening a gaming casino on thier land.

This seemed good news to me and undoubtedly the Shinnecocks and their supporters. Maybe I am naive but I did not believe that a Democratic Senator, Charles Schumer would pull what he pulled next.

Federal Ruling

Shinnecock Website/History

Schumer actually asked the B.I.A. (Bureau of Indian Affairs) to ignore the federal ruling and deny the Shinnecocks Tribal rights.

Sen. Schumer

“The Bureau of Indian Affairs should not be beholden to last week’s unprecedented decision by a federal judge. Tribal recognition will have very serious implications – it will help grease the skids for the Shinnecock’s misplaced casino effort – a disastrous prospect for residents on the East End of Long Island,” Schumer said.

(continued below …)

While I understand the concerns of the residents of Hampton Bays, L.I. and the hardships this will cause them, it is a small price to pay, at long last, for the crimes and atrocities committed against the Shinnecock over the last four hundred years. If this were to happen in my nieghborhood I would be concerned as well but personally I could live with it or move away because this is finally a way for this Nation to become self sufficient and able to make money other than by selling tax free cigarettes on the side of the road to rich Hamptonites. Fuckem I say.

Tribal Statement

The Shinnecock Indian Nation is one of the longest, continuously self-governing Tribes in the country. The 1,500-member State recognized Tribe believes that revenues from a gaming facility will help bring true self-reliance to the Shinnecock people and improve the quality of life. For more information, please visit our Web Site at Shinnecocknation.com or call our Communications team at 631-204-9301.

History of the Land Claim

In 1859 — when the Long Island Rail Road was seeking to run its line east to Montauk Point — a group of private investors submitted a petition to New York State asking to break the Shinnecock lease and instead give the tribe the reservation it now occupies. Twenty-one Shinnecocks allegedly signed the petition. But tribe leaders now question whether their signatures were legitimate: half the names on the petition were signed with Xs, other names were duplicated, and some names on the list belonged to minors, non-members and members who had died, the tribal trustees said in documents released Friday.

Within days of the first petition, tribe members sent a second one to Albany charging that the first had been a forgery. But the legislature approved the transaction.

A travesty repeated and perpetrated throughout our history of Genocide and land theft and Schumer stands in the way of rectifying a wrong and is protecting the interests of the rich landholders in the Hamptons.

Realistically, the Shinnecock’s battle to reclaim stolen land and become self sustaining will be a long and uphill battle, especially now since Sen. Schumer has weighed in. If you believe that he should step aside and let the process play out like I do, please tell him so.

Contact Sen Schumer

This is gonna be long, so bear with me….or don’t ;o)
I woke up this morning with the anticipation of returning home to my family after being in Washington for what I’ve heard are the largest anti-war demonstrations in 35 years. As I stood in my Mother in law’s kitchen making coffee I realized that the sun was shining outside for the first time in three days. Normally I wouldn’t think much of this, though I do love a bright crisp morning with brilliant sunshine. But for three days the clouds hung low over Washington and this was fitting because the occasion was a somber one, at least for me, and the clouds mirrored my mood. Although I witnessed many uplifting moments along the way, I couldn’t shake the feelings of anger and sadness.
The day before I left to go to Washington I went to the hardware store to buy an American Flag, capitol A, capitol F. I wanted the biggest one they had because I wanted everyone to see that it was there, with us where it belongs. I’m a goddamned American. On Veterans Day you will find that flag flying in front of my house. It’s there on Memorial Day and it’s there on the Fourth Of July. You see I’m getting pretty fed up with make believe patriots telling me that that flag belongs to them. I’m getting fucking sick and tired of sleazy oil traders and war criminals telling me and my friends that we’re traitors for questioning this war. They need to read a little history I think. This country, my country, for all it’s faults and brutal past, was born of the blood of dissenters and insurgents. Were it not for their determination to confront their oppressors and demand their freedom, and most importantly, their desire to struggle on to the rightful conclusion, there would be no you and there would be no me.

I arrived in town on the morning of the march. The city felt alive to me. I know that cities feel this way but it was something more. What impressed me first was how many young people there were. I’ve been worried lately that the youth of this country are not getting involved, but that fear has been laid to rest now as I watched so many of them streaming into the city on the metro and down the sidewalks toward the White House. I remember feeling proud of them, like a parent feels proud when your child surprises you and does something good. All around as I walked toward the hotel for the meetup with the Bootribbers and the Kossacks, there were little and not so little groups of people gathering and talking sort of softly it seemed. They were planning and setting rendevous points. It was encouraging. I was having some trouble finding the hotel so I stopped to call CabinGirl to get directions. As I’m dialing her number, a group of people asked me if I knew where the Holiday Inn was. The same one I was looking for. I said hang on I’m checking it out right now. That was cool :o) They were Kossacks from Colorado and this was the second time I was impressed. When I got to the hotel I went inside and immediatly recognized Steven D and Damnit Janet from the pictures that were posted from the Brewery meetup the night before. In hindsight, seeing the results of Tracy’s discovery of Booman on her floor, I’m certain it was best that I missed it because it would have been inevitable that she would have found two strange, how did Booman put it, ah…non-responsive men on her floor :o) I know Tracy can handle a lot, but I’m not sure she could have handled that! Let me just say that we’re lucky to have such a good natured dude running this blog. So I decide to go up and introduce myself to Steven and Janet. Steven is close to how I pictured him. I don’t quite know how to describe him other than my first impression which was that he was quiet, or softspoken but strong. He introduced me to his son Daniel who looked to be still shaking off sleep. A real nice kid. Quiet like his father :o) Next Janet, and this was fun. I said hi, I’m Mike, kinda regular you know, and she said hi, I’m Janet, who are you wi…..SUPERSOLING! Gosh man. Janet is a nice huggy person. You know what I mean :o) It was like finally meeting my long lost sister and that’s the way she made me feel. Instant buddies. That moment will be etched in my memory forever, among many others. Eventually CabinGirl and her sons, who deserve a diary devoted just to them :o), came down from upstairs and she found me and introduced herself. Another Blog sister. I spent a good part of the day with them, which worked out good for me because you’de be hard pressed to find a nicer lady to hang out with. CabinGirl smiles a lot and I really like that about her. I met Cedwyn, a Kossack/Tribber who is difficult to describe only in that I want to do justice to the freespirit I found her to be. I felt lucky to spend a short time with her before we got seperated. She carried three small American Flags planted in her hair and she reminded me of a cross between a flower child and a Generation X’er, with a degree in political science. A woman after my own heart :o) I also met Ryan, Janet’s brother from Boston, really from Boston ;o) Another quiet guy, or so I thought ;o) Slip and Slide! I met Booman briefly, but as it turned out, I was able to spend some good time with him later during the rally. I think I can share a little of that later without revealing too much of the mystery of the guy. I then met Boston Joe who is…well…not from Boston as we now know, but from Michigan. This guy is sharp, as I’m sure you all know by now after reading his diary about the March. He’s another who is hard to describe. He smiles alot too. Like I said, I like that. And he can write like a Motherfu….:o) I met our esteemed Brother Feldspar who is a fine metropolitan man and a damned good photographer too. Without him, the Sunday that so touched those of us who spent it together, wouldn’t have been possible. Do me, and yourselves a favor and ask him about Franklin Roosevelt sometime :o) Last, but most certainly not least, not by a long shot, came Tracy. I think I can say that many of you probably feel the same way about her as I do. I feel drawn to her. She is a powerful force. I have been in awe of her since the first time I started reading her comments at dKos. When I went to and returned from Crawford without meeting her, even though I was there on the last day that she was there, I felt deeply disappointed. So having this opportunity to meet her come up again was something that made me very happy. It took some time for all of us to get comfortable with each other, even though we know so much about each other from here. It took me a little longer, but that’s just how I am. Janet asked me Sunday if I was ok. I guess something about the way I looked concerned her. That was nice. I assured her I was fine. I’m just a quiet person most of the time and I think to myself a lot. I can see how it might seem stand offish or distant, but it’s more about being shy.

Still with me? Good, good.
We decided that we should get going toward the Ellipse and try to find a place to get some coffee along the way, as in spite of Shycats planning and kind efforts, the hotel totally fucked up the breakfast she had so kindly arranged for us. You know what Shycat? I’ll gladly take the thought and caring that you put forth for us over any meal. You helped to fuel our hearts and our souls and the value of that will not soon be forgotten :o) A couple of blocks down, we found a Starbucks $!&*%?!! corporate coffee shop. Hey, coffee is essential. I’ll let it slide. Sorry, that’s the closet anarchist in me :o) Here I also met Frisco from dKos, another good guy. I watched him watching the events unfolding and you could see how pleased he was with it all. it was written all over his face. Dear Janet was reaching out to her Code Pink sisters as they passed by and in this way we met a nice lady from Texas who’d also been to Crawford. You know, no matter how big the world seems sometimes, there are moments, special moments, when it gets small enough again to put your arms around. Thank the Great Spirit for that.
Just before we moved on, a lady came up to me and warned me that I wouldn’t be allowed to bring my flag along because the authorities, who ever they were, were banning any kinds of sticks. To be honest here, when I got out of my truck at the metro station, I thought about that possibility and considered leaving it for that reason. That lasted about one split second till I told myself, fuck that, I’m bringing this flag. So, to the lady who warned me…nice try. I told my friends I’d carry my flag till someone stopped me and then they’de get only the stick ’cause I was keeping the flag. As it turned out, no one gave me a problem about it, lucky for them.

The Rally seemed to get off to a slow start. It was announced that thousands of people had been stranded all along the northeast corridor because of a supposed power failure with Amtrak. This did not go over well with the crowd, nor with us. At this point in our national nightmare, there’s nothing that I wouldn’t put past the slime bag Rove, but in spite of any craven White House attempt at delaying the inevitable, the longer the day got, the bigger the crowd got. Pictures don’t do it justice. BTW, while I’m on the subject of pictures, nearly my entire collection of pictures I took came out fuzzy and out of focus. Bummer. But there have been more than enough fine images posted by others here who know how to actually operate tricky machinery :o) It was here that we met up with the rest of the Kossack contingent. PastorDan mistook me for Booman because I wrote Booman at the bottom of my nametag to distinguish myself from the Kossack group. There I go being territorial again. Fortunately when I met up with Booman himself later, i was able to procure the very last BT shirt he had left, so I’ll never have that problem again. It was kinda uncomfortable for a second there as I struggled to think of something cosmically important to say like I’m sure Booman would have, but at least I had my fleeting moment of blog fame :o) At this time I was approached by a very elegant looking young lady named Tampopo. She came over and introduced herself to me and proceeded to make my entire day when she told me how much she liked reading the things that I post. Aw Shucks :o) I was lovin that for sure. You see, in spite of my downcast mood, I was surrounded by such exceptional people as she all day and were it not for them I think that it would’ve been so much more difficult for me to take away any positive feelings about the day. I don’t mean to say that I felt it was useless, quite the opposite. It’s the realization at the depths of the destructive direction our country is headed in that eats at me. Realistically, this is going to be a long struggle back to where we can even get back to the business of righting all the wrongs we had before Bush came along and started us on this catastrophic course.

I’ll end this first part of my recollection of the 24th with this picture of a lone bagpiper.  Bagpipes produce such a mournful sound. When I hear them I always get a lump in my throat. Maybe this is because I associate that sound with a funeral. The thing is, I also associate that sound with an ancient, primal fierceness. So while I feel  sorrowful when I hear them, at the same time I feel a pride and a determination swelling in me and that’s how I feel about our situation right now. My heart is breaking from witnessing all the senseless death and hatred that is being unleashed by our country’s actions. But at the same time I get a powerful sense of energy and resolve that somehow, all of us who care, will turn this around. I for one, pledge to you now, if you need me, I AM THERE. You can count on me, just like I know I can count on all of you to BE THERE. See.. I ain’t letting them take my country down to hell with them and they will never, ever, have my children to fight their criminal wars. Not without a hell of a fight.

Don’t let it ever be said that I even remotely resemble anything close to a photographer. Here is proof that I do not :O)
Rick Holcomb (Adastra) took many very fine photos because he bears a very close resemblance to a photagrapher. Probably due to the fact that he actually is one! Unfortunately the photos that he sent me thru email never quite appeared on the other side of the transporter and I will have to rely on Rick’s goodwill to try and send them to me again. So for now you’ll have to be content with what I took with my daughter’s camera.

P.S.
Have I mentioned yet how badly I want to return to Camp Casey?
Thou shalt not build giant replicas of the Ten Commandments

This dude kept cruising up and down in front of the rally. He was the one who said protesting was fine in San Francisco, but don’t bring this trash to Texas.

This is Hadi Fawad, co-founder of the Crawford Peace House. A very excellent man.

The Rally

The train of cars begins to roll in.

Cindy in straw hat greeting the cars full of supporters.

That’s the tall hat of….I mean the long arm of the law. Actually, every officer I saw seemed very nuetral and friendly.

The crosses stretching outfrom the camp

More memorials

Cindy

Counter demonstrators

Yours truly

All the pictures taken at Camp Casey were before the majority of the crowd arrived so these don’t do justice to it. No matter the size of the crowd though, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of unity, renewed energy and direction and I can say that we all were feeling this way.

 Thank you Cindy

Hi everyone. We just got back to Austin from Crawford a little while ago. Hopefully Rick will have some pictures up soon. For now, let me tell you all about our day and meeting Cindy Sheehan
There is one traffic light in Crawford it seems. On one side is a big old place called The Yellow Rose of Texas. Out in front is a giant replica of the Ten Commandments, and it was here and across the street at a gas station where there were a few people who were counter demonstrating, if you want to call it that since there were only about four or five of them there. Just across the other side of the main street, tucked under some big trees is the Crawford Peace House. A small house with anti-war posters in the yard and in the windows and just full of amazing people. We didn’t stop there at first but went instead to the rally which was just down the street a little near the high school football field. When we got there, people where beginning to gather to hear the speakers. Cindy wasn’t there either, but we found out that she was out at the campsite. I assume she felt it was better to keep a lower profile and if this was the reason, I agree with it. Her being there would have given fuel to the few counter protesters who were there. There were a few more of them at the football field a few hundred yards down the road from the rally. There was one guy in a red chevy pickup with an American flag in the bed, driving up and down the road playing what I guess he considered patriotic country music and had “This is Bush Country” posted on the side of his truck. He looked pretty lonely to me. Ironically, when we got back to Austin we saw this same dude on the national news saying how it’s ok to do this stuff in San Francisco, but don’t bring this trash here to Texas. I’ll let you interpret what he meant by “trash”.

We stayed at the rally for almost an hour and listened to some of the first speakers, including Dante Zapalla from, I believe, Military Families for Peace, or Gold Star Families for Peace. You might remember him from the very end of the hearings held by John Conyers on the Downing Street Minutes. He stated at the end of the hearings that he had lost his brother in Iraq. We met and talked to many wonderful and interesting people from all over the place. I had a good long talk with a woman from the International Socialist Organization’s Austin branch. It was interesting to see and meet a people from all different organizations and political backrounds who were all there to support Cindy. Everyone was unified in this support, and I saw no signs of any groups trying to splinter off and get air time for themselves, as sometimes happens at these kinds of gatherings.

From there, we walked back to the Crawford Peace House and spent some time there cooling off (it was hot!) and meeting and talking with some of the founders and other volunteers there. We were welcomed by Hadi Jawad, co-founder of the Peace House and Lynn Gonzalez, a friend of Cindy’s from San Diego. I’ve met some nice people in my time, but Hadi takes the cake, hands down. He said, this house is your house, stay as long as you like and was nice enough to take the time to answer a few of my questions. When I asked about his relationship with the locals in general, he said it was pretty bad and since it was founded in 2003, there were times when they were actually feeling threatened. That’s a shame because I find it an amazing fact that they were there to support Cindy in her quest, and are there at all considering it’s Bush’s home town, though we all know that Bush is from Connecticut, but they don’t want him either.

Lynn Gonzalez is a very passionate and talkative woman who offered to take us out to Camp Casey. We were lucky that she was just getting ready to bring some food out to Cindy and offered to let us ride along. Just before we pulled away, a small older, grandmotherly looking woman named Mill from Dallas came up to the car and asked if we could bring some roses out that she had brought for Cindy. She declined to bring them out herself but just wanted to see to it that Cindy get the flowers. Apparently she came out from Dallas just for that. Amazing. Along the ride out to the camp we picked up three others who were walking along the hot road out to where Cindy was. They said that the police had told them they would have to walk, but we had no problem going through ourselves. Maybe this indicates that the police were stopping random people or even selecting people to stop. I don’t know. We had no problem.

Camp Casey is a rag tag collection of tents, camper vans, and cars squeezed up tight between the road and the fence. It is at the confluence of two country roads in the middle of pasture. In the middle of this intersection is a small triangle of grass between the roads. For some reason, whoever owns this little piece of scrub grass decided to post a no trespassing sign on it. This might sound like a small thing, but with the roads being so narrow and the fence very close to the road to begin with, it leaves precious littls space for Cindy and everyone else who is there to move around. Especially when there are cars and trucks going up and down the road. To me it seems like just another way to cause more inconvenience and stress to Cindy and her supporters out of spite and ignorance.

Here is the best part, from my perspective. When we pulled up to the camp, Lynn starts asking where Cindy is and I’m tapping on her shoulder telling her that Cindy is sitting in a chair just outside her drivers window. Now I’m no icon worshiper, but when I saw Cindy sitting almost right next to me outside the car, I felt like I was in the presence of someone extraordinary and heroic. I was fortunate enough to have been carrying the flowers from Mill from Dallas and walked up to Cindy and offered them to her for Mill and told her my name and that I was here from New York. She thanked me for the flowers and thanked me for being there. I said to her, no, thank you Cindy. That was it. That small moment with her was worth the long trip. She asked for people to come and I found a way to come. Mission accomplished so to speak. She asked me if I could put the flowers with the others by the crosses that I hadn’t noticed stretching down the road for a couple of hundred yards out from the camp.

We walked up the road along the camp as it is stretched
out along the fence, talking to different people, watching listening, and taking in the scene before us. Personally for me…I feel as if I have been to an historic place. A place where, as Cindy has said, the beginning of the end of the Iraq War was started. As time went by, more and more people started showing up. First on foot and then by car. Car after car after car, stretching down the road like a train for as far as the eye could see. In all directions there were more people appearing. By this time Cindy had moved down the road toward Crawford to greet and wave to the people who were coming in. She was surrounded by media and supporters as she did this. As people drove in and saw that Cindy was there greeting them, they would blow their horns and shout their support and the crowd on the side of the road would return the shout and applaud those coming in. It was a truly profound sight to see.

Not long after this, Ray McGovern was at a microphone giving instructions to the crowd to stay off the grass triangle lest they wished to be arrested. He said this with a bit of sarcasm and incredulousness at the absurdity of it. When he was done he introduced a woman who was there to play some acoustic music. I can’t remember her name now as I was still gazing around in wonder at the sight before me and taking in the feeling of disbelief that I felt that I was even really there :O) Whatever her name was, she was good and got the crowd in a good, peaceful and I would say, hopeful mood. Awesome :O)

It was at this time that we decided to get going back to Crawford. I would have loved to stay but was worried that I might have a problem getting back to Austin without Rick since I have to fly home tomorrow. Leaving was sad and hard. We never found Tracy and Brinn, and it turns out now that another blog friend of mine, Dredd from Bradblog was there too and I didn’t know it. I’m disappointed that I didn’t get the chance to meet them but I have a strong suspition that there will come another opportunity in the future to meet them. I now have a friend in Rick from the Peoples Republic of Austin, as he puts it :O) Brinn lives in Austin and Dredd lives somewhere near here, so I do believe I will be back someday.

As we were driving out in a shuttle bus owned by a local guy who volunteered to bring people back and forth, the road was just full of cars coming in to the camp. There were also a lot of police coming out by this time too and I assume they were there for crowd control as there were by this time, easily three to four hundred people and many more coming in by car. Do any of you remember the last scene from the movie “Pay It Forward” where there is a line of cars stretched out for miles down the road coming to pay respects to the boy who was killed in the movie? Well that’s what it looked like to me, only they were coming to pay respect to Casey and his Mother who has single handedly caused so many people to finally stop and think about what Bush is doing to our children and our country. And she is camped out in the Texas sun, beside a road in his own back yard.

Talk to Cindy George. She deserves that much at least.

Peace

We are experiencing some very dark and forbidding days my friends. That is for sure. It can be difficult to say the least, to maintain a sense of optimism when we see people like John Bolton, who’s sole purpose is to tear down and destroy, appointed to a position of power, behind our backs, in spite of the sustained and valiant efforts of the democrats to oppose this disaster in the making.

If there was one good quality my Mother ever taught me, it was to……..
NEVER GIVE UP
Not ever. If you feel defeated and unable to carry on, you must dig deep within yourself one last time and summon the fortitude to push ahead, no matter what. Sometimes that means flying blindly on faith alone. We all know what is happening to our country, yet the foe we face is resourceful and determined. We know that they are not gonna go without a fight. If it’s a fight they want, it’s a fight they’re gonna get, because we aren’t gonna surrender our godamned country to them. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not EVER.

They have gone and fucked with the wrong bunch of Americans, I can tell you that. They have underestimated us and that is their fatal miscalculation.

All you people here…..I love you. You are the finest people I know, and I’m godamned proud to be among you. Now if you can go another day, then so can I. Today we had a setback. Tomorrow we regroup and take it to them again and again, until we wrest from them whats left of this great country and start to rebuild and reach out again to our friends around the world.

They ain’t taking our country from us. Uh uh

*Update*
Here is a small way we can help others who are fighting this regime.

http://www.neversurrender.org

Just so you all know, I’m not saying any of you would ever give up. It’s just that I know we’re taking some licks right now and our situation was pissing me off even more. This call to carry on is for me as much as anyone else.

Peace

Just so you all know, this is my first attempt at a diary, so Pleeeease be gentle,……… or don’t :0)

What I’m hoping for with this diary is to get a better insight into how my daughters, I have two, 15, and 12, but particularly my 15 yr old, are doing in life in general, how they are coping with peer pressure, pre-womanhood and all the pressure that goes with that, the little wolves, sorry, I mean boys who are now calling our house for them all the time. How they might be looking to me as a model for what they like or maybe don’t like or look for in boys/men, and what things that I could do to better understand them and help them along, not that I’m sure they want it.

Now here’s the tricky part. I have come to realize that maybe I am being over protective at least as far as finding a comfortable pace (for me) and them in slowly letting them go, and grow, and begin to find for themselves what their path may be. I’m scared to death! Yikes! I know that they have secrets, and I know that they’ve probably done some things that I’ll never know about. Nor should I, I think. I’m not trying to get completely inside their heads, because after all, I’m a man and that may be an intellectual leap that I’m not capable of making :0) I’m just looking for a better understanding of them.

One of, if not the greatest strength of Booman Tribune, is the wealth of strong, passionate, caring, and outspoken women here, and it occured to me that I might be fortunate enough to get a little insight, without prying too much, into any of your memories of how things were between you and your fathers, and what you might wish he had done differently, or what he did perfectly for that matter when you were growing up and even now as adult daughters of fathers.

I want to be the perfect father, but I know thats not possible. So I was wondering if any of you daughters would be willing to help me be the best father to my daughters that I can be.