Dear Dad,

I was in second grade when you took me to the bank to get a checking account so I could pay for my own piano lessons out of my allowance. It was always fun and a little awesome to watch you doing business with the bankers and tellers. Was there a serious one with glasses named MaryLou? I didn’t really understand how farming worked – sometimes taking out loans, sometimes buying things for next year at this year’s prices, the big checks we would bring home from Dubuque after riding up with Grandpa Gray and a load of cattle, your “bookwork” laid out on the table for weeks before going to see your tax person, listening to Max Armstrong on WGN doing the farm market reports, your distinctive handwriting on the checks. You’re so smart. I hope you’re enjoying the boys today. 

Love, Lynn