They say some people were born in the wrong century.

Douglas MacKinnon was one of them.

I often envision him as a cowboy, riding the range, with many friends in every town, and always quick to tell some tall tale of his travels.

Closest my Dad had to that was being a long-haul truck driver. He saw more places, and had more stories than I will ever see or tell.

Now, all I have are photographs and memories. They tell a story of man who wasn’t prefect, just like the rest of us, but did the best he could with what he knew and had.

From all I remember, I’ll fill my memories with the good. Memories of a big man driving 18-wheelers. A former wrestler who knew how to do a proper sleeper hold. A cowboy who gave me my love for Westerns and the old American West. A man who always enjoyed the wonders of Mother Nature. A wise sage whose wisdom was regretfully over-looked by my youth. A hard working man who gave me my work ethic. A father to my younger self, and a friend to my adult self.

These are the memories I’ll keep.

“Memories are like starlight, they go on forever.”

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