This is the Stattmann Baby!!  Time to Scatt a little bit.

On Father’s Day, you can find a place for a Father’s death but getting over it is something else.

But I do remember a Sunday at Mid-Ohio, when we escaped to Daddy’s first professional car race even though the women in our lives had other plans.

My father was a teacher.  That’s just the way he was wired.  He also had the wiring to be a great photographer.  On that Sunday afternoon, we both had photo passes and were shooting on the backside of Mid-Ohio at the sharp, downhill left hander near the end of the straight.

I learned to leave my Dad alone when he was trying something new.  Our ability to teach each other something was seldom resolved.

But, as I expected, the shot of the race winning move happened in front of my Father’s camera and he got it full frame.  From then on the memory of a brilliant sunny Sunday in the green rolling hills of Mid-Ohio always brought my Dad a smile.

And I had something to do with it.  It’s a Father’s Day memory I’ll always have with me.

Happy Father’s Day Dad.

Peace.