Dear Dad, I’m sure it’s raining on the east side of the Pecos today. That’s good because I’m afraid the Calf Canyon/Hermit’s Peak fire has burned all the way west to Hamilton Mesa or at least to Iron Gate. I guess it’s also burned over where we left your ashes with Pat’s near the Mora …
We were celebrating your 60th birthday with this 1989 hike in Colorado, but the photos will do for Father’s Day. My late father, Bob Robertson, 1929-1995.
I’m getting a head start on Father’s Day, already picking out pictures to celebrate my late, one-of-a-kind, Marine Corps-to-Peace Corps, writer, teacher, newspaperman, linguist father. Here mocking risk as always on a beach near Yelapa on the Pacific coast of Mexico in 1975. I could live without the snakes but otherwise thanks, Dad.
“I am ashamed — ashamed for myself and for the church — that we have not been here sooner.” That was Monsignor David Cantwell of the Catholic Interracial Council of Chicago speaking to my father at the end of the five-day civil rights march from Selma to Montgomery in March 1965, led by the Rev. …
I have been thinking about this photo, too, on this Father’s Day, a family photo from the 1930s. It’s my father, Bob Robertson, and his father, Homer W. Robertson, helping my father’s older sister, Marcella Jean, who suffered from cerebral palsy. Marcella couldn’t walk on her own and had trouble speaking, but her mind and …
Along with Martin Luther King Jr. and many others, I always think of my father on this day. More of these stories here: https://dreamranch.wordpress.com/2015/03/07/a-singing-heard-in-selmas-mud/
dream ranch 