10/5/1937

Today would have been my dad's 103rd birthday. A really happy guy, he lived his life with ease and played right to the end at age 90. Though he had macular degeneration and was mostly blind, even in his last week he played golf with his buddies. They graciously would help as needed and he loved the game, just as he had so loved basketball through his first thirty-five years. 
This isn't anything about art, but since play is so important to art in my mind, it seems appropriate to honor one of my "sources" on this day.
Happy Birthday, Dad. You may only have made it to 90, but you live on in all of us.