on one memorable occasion a fight broke out at a beach party, with everyone punching and shoving. he wasnt content to sit and watch, but he couldnt stand unaided on the soft sand. in frustration he began to shout, ll fight anyone who will tit down with me!nobody did. but the next day people kidded him by saying it was the first time any fighter was urged to take a dive even before the bout began.i now know he participated in some things vicariously through me, his only son. when i played ball , he played too. when i joined the navy he joined too. and when i came home on leave, he saw to it that i visited his office. introducing me, he was really saying, this is my son, but it is also me, and i could have done this, too, if things had been different. those words were never said aloud.

　　he has been gone many years now, but i think of him often. i wonder if he sensed my reluctance to be seen with him during our walks. if he did, i am sorry i never told him how sorry i was, how unworthy i was, how i regretted it. i think of him when i complain about trifles, when i am envious of anothers good fortune, when i dont have a good heart.

　　at such times i put my hand on his arm to regain my balance, and say, you set the pace, i will try to adjust to you.

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