As we were growing up, my mother quoted Shakespeare to us, one line in particular: “This above all, to thine own self be true.” My mother didn’t raise my father, of course, but this line could have been written for him. A man so aptly named Frank, my dad has always been true to himself. He is friendly and fun and as good as they come; he extracts joy from daily living.

When he was a tail gunner on bombing raids in World War II, he took a milk concoction into the nether regions of a B-17 bomber so that he and his buddies would have ice cream when they landed back in East Anglia. Sixty-odd years later, when he was being honored as a D-Day veteran by his hometown, he told the Lexington City Council that its downtown reminded him of London during the blitz–his way of protesting the demolition of yet another city block. He even made us laugh when he was facing serious surgery: Instead of taking the revolving door into the hospital, he took it all the way around so he was back outside.

But of course, it was all in fun. He went back in; he did what he had to do. But he did it with a smile and a quip. People like my father make life worth living. Happy Birthday, Dad!