The Patriarch

...or as he would pronounce it, the paaaahh-triaahhh-ak.
He hasn't lived in Rhode Island for what I'm guessing has to be at least 7 decades now, but his thick New Englander accent is an undeniable part of Papa's charm.

My grandfather, Darren and Sarah's great-grandfather, turns 92 this August. Since the twins' birth, forays to "Papa's Pool" have comprised the sustaining stuff of summer. So what if the water was barely above 50 degrees on the first day of the pool's opening? Papa's swimming his laps. He's an usher at his church. He volunteers twice a week at a local hospital. At 90, this former symphony and swing band percussionist picked up his mallets (upon his Minister of Music's request) and played three hymns on marimba during a Sunday Service. Oh yeah, and his church's services are televised. Didn't phase Papa. He practiced only thrice beforehand...after not having played the marimba in over 54 years. He didn't miss a note. Just this morning, he was in the pool...on the first full day of our summer vacation, helping Darren and Sarah with their swimming strokes.

At the risk of excruciating redundancy, our Papa, C.A. "Al" Astle is a remarkable man. Happy Father's Day, Papa. We love you.