My wife loves daisies.   It’s her favorite flower.   Therefore it is my favorite flower.   If something can bring a smile to my wife’s face in exchange for the perpetual eye roll  response to my usual way of doing things, then I want a case, or a gross, or a truckload, or a hillside of these little glee-makers.

I guess you would assume this blog is an act of contrition to something stupid I said…or did…or acted upon…or any other poorly thought-out instinct that I am responsible for in the time-space continuum, and that would be a good assumption.   I have used the Bellis perennis on many of the above occasions.  However, this is not one of  those many instances.

I took this photo of a daisy in my father’s flower garden.  I used a Canon 50 mm macro lens.  I wanted the contrast of the white petals with the darker shaded background.

Whenever I see daisies, I first think of my wife.

After many hours of thinking precious thoughts about my wife, I think of Meg Ryan in “You’ve Got Mail”.   I hate to admit  I love this movie.   I will always watch it whenever I am riding the Big Kahuna of the Fiber-optic Sea (channel-surfing).   No matter what point I pick up the movie, I will always watch it to the end.  I love when Joe Fox comes to visit Kathleen Kelly when she is sick.   I love it when she says, “I have a temPAtour”.   And I love when Joe gives her daisies and she says ” they are the friendliest flower”.

In some discombobulated way, this blog is about my brother-in-law.   He loves the movie “Tombstone”, a little more testosterone-driven than Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks.   He can quote all of Doc Holliday’s musings, as in “…you’re a daisy if you do”.

My brother-in-law retired last week after forty years of educating.    He was very good at whatever job he had in education from teacher, to coach, to principal, to director of pupil personnel.   He was very good because his first concern was the  students.   He will never know the full scope of what he meant to those many students that were taught and guided by him and even those that were disciplined by him.

My brother-in-law was never accused of being politically correct.   He had been known on occasion to tell one or more of his female co-workers to visit the moon hut during a certain monthly celebration. (I hope this doesn’t interfere with his first retirement check).   But, to a woman, they all loved him.  He was, at times, at odds with the teachers union, his superiors, and parents.  But in each instance, he had the best interest of the students in mind.  He was very well respected and like Frank Sinatra, he did it his way.

So to my brother-in -law, I say “well done”.  Your retirement is well-deserved and you will be missed by your peers and co-workers and above all, the students.  So here’s to more Florida time in winter with your lovely wife, more golf, more late morning breakfasts, more days with your grandkids and more times to watch “Tombstone”.

Incidentally, if  my brother-in-law finds out I can quote “You’ve Got Mail”  like he can quote “Tombstone”,   he will want to send me to the moon hut the next time he hears me fussing.

If you like this photo, you can see more of my photos here.