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This handsome devil here is my Dad. He went by many names...but he was always Dad or "Abo" to me. To other people he was an Eritrean literary icon called Musa Aron.

An older worn black and white photograph of a handsome young African man  wearing a suit jacket, shirt and tie.  He is looking into the camera.

Though Dad passed away a decade ago, I see him often in my dreams. Much like we did in real life, we talk...we debate...I tell him about my life, the latest book I read or jazz recording I found that I know he would enjoy. He in turn always starts the conversation the same way "How is school going?" (I was forever taking a course here and there while he was alive).....I giggle and remind him that I'm no longer in school anymore. He talks to me about our shared life, tells me he can't wait to read said book or listen to jazz recording.....and once in a while we get into some strange adventures that never happened in real life.

Our almost 47 year age difference meant ours was a relationship between a much older parent and child. We never really got into any sorts of physical adventures...but we did get into some good intellectual adventures....which I am eternally grateful for. My love of and curiosity about the world grew from those discussions. My love of the written word, all forms of creativity and UNO has thrived because of those discussions.

My relationship with Dad or my family as a whole is by no means a perfect one. But I still value the healthy imperfection of it all. As the last born of 9 kids I always wished I had been born earlier in the order of children so I could have had had more time with Dad....but then again...if wishes were horses and all that. No matter what, I know I'm grateful for what I did get.


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