December 1968

Five year old Harm stood watching his Dad in front of the bathroom mirror. After watching for a while, Harm asked his father why he always put lots of soap on his face and neck and then scraped it off with a knife. His father replied that he was getting rid of the hair he didn't want.

"But why don't I have hair on my face an' neck?" little Harm asked.

Harm's father laughed loudly, and Harm couldn't help but laugh too. His father's laughter was one of Harm's favorite sounds. It was deep, rich and strong. When his Dad was away and sent tapes to him and Mom to listen to, Harm's best parts were the ones where Dad laughed.

When he was done laughing, Dad put down the razor and squatted until he was eye-level with his son. He looked into his little boy's blue eyes and rumpled his hair, then hugged him tight. When he pulled away and spoke, his voice was gruff.

"I'm going to miss you while I'm gone, little fella. I'm sorry I have to leave before Christmas, but I want you to be good and listen to your mother, okay?"

Downcast at the reminder that his father would be leaving the next day, Harm nodded. "Are we still going skating today?"

"Of course we are, son. I'll teach you how to stay on the ice without falling over. And I'll tell you what – someday, when you start to grow hair on your face and neck, I'll teach you how to shave just like I'm doing, okay?"

Harm smiled and nodded. Dad was going away, right before Christmas, but he'd be back. Harm's hero would return, to teach him all the things he needed to know. Best of all, one day, he'd teach him how to fly.