Death and Taxes

I am convinced that being the youngest of 5 boys sheltered me from many of life's realities when I was young. That's no consolation now since my age betrays the fact that I am supposed to act grown-up. I have the best wife in the world who maintains an upward curve in her beauty as she hits her mid-30's full stride. I have 3 kids whom I both adore and manage like a construction crew who is behind in their work - it's how I show love in my attempts to prepare them for life. I have a bunch of other stuff that I could burn down tomorrow into a heap of ash and it wouldn't matter a bit as long as I have my family. Families are Forever in this Petzinger Household.

I have I have I have - this time of year (tax season), I am reminded that the two words; 'The IRS', once bound together with the sticky blood they extract from my working hands actually forms the word: THEIRS. Conincidence? Who knows....... It's no coincidence that what was once mine is now THEIRS.

I have I have I have to pay these taxes. For any one who has ever read these Rantz knows that I am anti-big govt. But today, I'll write about the greatest thief who has ever stolen from me and my family - and it wasn't THEIRS .....

On April 15th - death and taxes united in an ironic symphony to greet the passing of a great man in my life - my dad. Born in 1938, Werner Adalbert Petzinger was a mere 66 years old (ten days shy of his 67th birthday) when we laid him to rest. Cancer stole him from us. The crime is not death, for we all face the same fate. The crime was stealing my children's association from this man while in mortality. What a crime!

I look at my life - a brief pause between panic driven fits to secure the next contract so I can have money to pay for things - and suddenly realize that I will be 34 tomorrow. No, I do not harbour any deep rooted emotional regret that dad cashed-in on my Birthday - I like to think that the last check he ever wrote in this life was to THEIRS - and it bounced! That's my goal anyway....

I'll be 34. I'm 33 for another 4 or so hours. 33x2 =66. Not that I tie any mystical weight to the fact that according to a direct genetic line, I could be facing the hump in the hill. Right now, the only hump I see has enveloped my belt. I know those feet are down there somewhere.... Well, it certainly is a reality check to say the least.

I know for my dad, one of his greatest accomplishments were his 5 sons. Not that we are all-stars or extraordinary adults, but we loved him. It was fierce! That's the only word that fits a description of my love for a father who was stolen away - a fierce pain in a vacuum - an absense. He was taken too soon. That's my opinion. THEIRS wasn't getting much from him in retirement, so they don't care..... but I have children to raise and I wanted them in his shadow to hear a German accent and know of our history from a first-person resource. To listen to absurd fairy tale stories that don't make sense. To go fishing with him (quite possibly the worst fisherman I've ever seen). To be spoiled with dollar store treasures wrapped in duct tape and old paper bags. To absorb his wisdom from years of academic pursuits coupled with a lifetime of hard manual labor. To understand and appreciate his love for them. To learn of thier own self-worth as heirs to the Petzinger name.

I heard a great quote from Joe D'Errico (a wonderful grandfather to all Petzinger grandkids and a great husband to my dear mother!) "never visit a man whose kids don't speak with him". Profound. This encapsulates one of the fierce pains of dad's passing - a good bloody-knuckle political debate about the direction of this Great Nation. What a shame he's not here today to argue with..... I spoke with my dad on a regular basis when he was around. He took the wealth of his children's love and respect to the grave.

So, I mourn today - on the 14th so as to enjoy a selfish tradition of marking one's age tomorrow. Whoever says these situations get easier with time never had a father like Werner.