June 30th, 2015

June 30th, 2015
June 30th, 2015

The version of masculinity I grew up with was one that was modeled by a man with forearms like Popeye, covered in grease and ink, who worked on tractors, who called me “honey,” and cried every time he heard me sing a solo.

Strength, compassion, loyalty, and sacrifice.

I hope to one day be half the father he was to me.


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