Toby Keith loved Clint Eastwood. I can only guess that a line of snarly-tough authenticity connected the men like 10 lb. test. No two bigger Big Dog Daddies ever lived. The legendary country singer once asked the Academy Award-winning actor, who was at the time working on another movie at the age of 88, “What keeps you going?” Eastwood answered, “I don’t sit around. I get up and go outside. I move. I do things.” And then he added, “You can’t let the old man in.”

I miss my dad on my birthday. Every January 19th I have a pang. It would sound way better if I said I miss my dad on his birthday, in February. I do. But not in the way I miss him on the day that marks each trip of mine around the sun.

Something weird happens to time in November. (In addition to that daylight savings thing that was once super helpful to farmers back in the day but doesn’t much make sense anymore.) Time starts to race like a horse. The ramp-up begins in mid-October, then by the time Halloween arrives, it is sliding downhill like a snowball headed for you know where. Days disappear faster than the candy we just passed out to Trick-or-Treaters. Ghosts and goblins bleed into turkeys that bleed into Santa Claus and suddenly the shiny ball of hope is dropping as we toast to sweeter tomorrows while ringing in the New Year.