Opie's dad died...

[Flock of Moosen]

Not that many seem to care, but here's the latest update to opieandanthony.com.

Hey gang, this is Opie. My family is completely devastated by the sudden death of my father at the age of 74. Unlike myself, my pops NEVER had a bad thing to say about anyone. He found the good in everyone and influenced the lives of so many people. He was my father, best friend and biggest fan. He lived a life. Something we all hope we can do when it's all said and done.

Terry, Scott, Darren, Holly, Brett, Quinn and myself would like to thank everyone for their outpouring of love and support. I also want to thank my enemies for taking a break in the battle to acknowledge what's really important at the end of the day; FAMILY. A lot of you have been asking if there's anything you can do for my family. Here it is; my mom has a very long recovery ahead of her. My family would greatly appreciate it if you have a moment to send her a card or a little something. She has a great smile and we'd like to see that.

Please use the following address if you're going to send something:
Hughes
P. O. Box 443
Centerport, NY 11721

Our dad was a very spiritual person who loved to write. The following poem has been read at countless wakes of American Veterans all over the country to ease their family sufferings and is on permanent record down in Washington.

THE WAY WE WERE (Ode to our World War 2 Vets)

We laughed and played and were a little naughty.
We were in school and it was nineteen forty.

Then Pearl Harbor became the date to remember.
It was war on that seventh day of December.

We sang with Crosby, danced with Astaire.
We did the jitterbug with such a flair.

We left our youth and loved ones home.
When we crossed over the sea and foam.

Many of our comrades lost their lives.
They never met their future wives.

But we were lucky and returned alive.
For it was all over in forty-five.

We played again and continued drinking.
Then we matured and started thinking.

We married our loved ones and it was nifty.
For all of a sudden it was nineteen fifty.

The joy of our children perked up our lives.
Our routine was many nine to fives.

We bought houses and made them homes.
They were ours - except for the loans.

Our kids grew up in sixty and seventy.
Life was good; it was full and plenty.

It was nineteen eighty when we were had.
When adults were calling us \"Gran-dad\".

The nineties produced a lot of graying.
A lot of \"taps\" they started playing.

While life is measured in many years.
Death ends it with too many tears.

But why should you have all this sorrow.
When we all will meet again tomorrow.

Weep for yourself - but not for me.
For I am back with God for eternity.

WIth all my love
For now from above,

Fred Hughes