Where I got 'the gene'

My parents have spent the last two months packing up the Atlanta home they've lived in for the past 26 years to move full-time to their mountain house in North Carolina.

Since they started cleaning out the house and packing, I've received several emails a week from my dad, emails with attached pictures of furniture, toys, school projects and long-forgotten photos.

It's been all sorts of fun seeing all those things again after so much time has passed, and they also packed up three boxes of children's books and memorabilia that they'd saved from my childhood and shipped those to me.

The day after they moved, I got a couple of emails containing a series of pictures from my dad.

The pictures chronicled the move, including the loan of their grand piano to their church pianist -- which meant moving it to her house.

I wonder if the guys have ever had a man take pictures of almost their every step before.

I bet when they showed up for work that day, they didn't realize they'd spend the day under the watchful eye of a papparazzo.

Nonetheless, they managed to get the piano in place, and I'm sure the church pianist will enjoy it while it's on loan.

Guess who had the movers pose for one last cute picture.

Oh sorry. It wasn't ONE more picture; it was two. And guess who identified them in the email to me BY FIRST AND LAST NAME.

My mistake. It wasn't TWO final cute pictures; it was THREE. And guess who copied the movers on the email to me because HE HAD PROCURED THEIR EMAIL ADDRESSES.

Yep. That would be my dad. None of this was surprising to me, by the way. That's just the kind of guy he is.

And he takes so many pictures and collects so many stories (that he's kind enough to share with me and my sister via email) that he could easily have a blog of his own ... but instead he just taps it all out in emails to us.

But if you were wondering where I got the gene for this gig here? Now you know.