A final farewell to my father.
On a Fall afternoon standing in the alfalfa field on our farm near Buckeye, Arizona circa 1977, my father helped me build a kite. Using only newspaper, a yardstick, tape, twine, and some rags, we built a kite and flew it there for a while.
Those hours that day were the most meaningful experience he ever shared with me.
He was a simple, raw, and complicated man. A rebel, a pilot, a fighter, occasional guitar and harmonica player, yet also a provider. He didn’t always make wise or good decisions, but I am thankful for that day, that time he spent with me there in the alfalfa field on that afternoon, teaching me to engineer.
Thank you for being my dad.
RIP Harold Ray (1936 – 2024)
