March 31, 2004

A letter to my son

Dear Quinton,

I probably am breaking the law for sending this letter, but I don’t care. I love you with all of my heart and I think about you every day. I wish you would call me, but I really don’t expect that to happen. Mama keeps you pretty busy, doesn’t she?

You are my pride and joy, son. I may not be a perfect man, but I’ve always tried to be a good father to you. I taught you to throw a football and how to shoot a free-throw from the edge of the driveway. I was proud of the way you responded to the lessons. Jack comes over almost every day to ask me when you’re coming back to visit. He likes doing that kind of stuff, too.

I don’t know when I’ll see you again, Quinton, I’m in a court battle right now, and if worse comes to worst, I’ll be leaving the country for a while. If I leave, understand one thing. I’m not doing it because I don’t love you. I will ALWAYS love you. I wish that you were here with me today.

But that’s not my choice to make with the plate laid out in front of me. I’m being asked to eat gruel or get up from the table. Buddy, you know me well enough to know what I’ll do when given that kind of choice. You can shove that gruel where the sun don’t shine and I‘ll eat the table first.

I hope to see you sometime soon.

Love-- and I mean that with all my heart--Daddy