Today is the birthday of my father, Paul D. Swedberg. If he were alive, he would be 78 years old.
A hard-working, generous man, my dad would snow-blow the sidewalks of everybody on the block and lend his tools as if they were library books. I got the feeling that he sometimes bought tools just so the neighbors across the street could borrow them someday. He was a good father who usually expressed his love by what he did rather than what he said. He never let his poor health keep him from attending my brother’s and my sporting events or concerts.
My dad died 13 and a half years ago, after suffering from his fifth heart attack. I still miss him.
Here are a few pictures of his younger days. Note the pocket protector in the third photo. Now you know where I got my geekiness.
Thanks to cousin Josh Byers for the photos.