Great Poem I dedicate to my Dad, on his 81st Birthday.

My Daddy's walk
By Tony W. Cartledge

My father stays in shape by taking at least one good walk every day, but it's not always easy for him. A lifetime of hard work and a heavy dose of arthritis have played havoc with his hips. He had the right one replaced and the doctor wants to fix the other one, but Daddy's not inclined to go back under the knife.
The pain in his hips and knees contributes to a distinctive limp that I can recognize a hundred yards away.
As years go by and my own frame grows older, I've noticed that my joints are stiffer and sometimes painful, especially when I've been sitting for a long time.
Occasionally, when I get up from a low chair and limp away, Jan will remark that I'm starting to walk like my Daddy.
I wish I could.
My Daddy limps, but he walks as straight as any man I've ever known.
His faith is quiet but deep, understated but steady.
He walks with honesty and integrity.
To his friends and family, he is true, dependable, consistent.
To his church, he is unfailingly supportive, generous, willing to do what needs to be done, with no need for credit.
He is good with dirt in the garden, good with wood in the workshop, good with dishes in the sink, and good with children in his care.
As "Daddy Bill," he is a grandpa extraordinaire.
He played fullback for the county high school 60 years ago, earning the nickname "Bull." He continues to support and follow the team, and they have no more faithful fan.
My Daddy is the mental image I get when reading my favorite verse in the Old Testament: "He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God" (NIV).
Walk like my Daddy?
I wish I could.