For the last few weeks, I've had the opportunity of having several clans of my family visit for various lengths of time. As most of you who know me are already aware, I am as fun to visit with as a wounded bear. Yet somehow I persevered, put on my human face, and answered when my name was called.

It's always the same routine. "Hey, how are you? Long time no see. Glad you could make it." Read that as "Oh, geez. What's this gonna cost me now?" Then I start doing the mental gymnastics of "OK.. if there's a flood, which ones am I gonna save."

"Oh, we don't want to put you out." I'm thinking, "Good. Four bottles of wine at dinner tonight and you can sleep in my lawn shed. That won't put me out at all." Fat chance.

Then I get marching orders that the towels without frayed edges are for the guests, and I should make sure that the guest bathroom is stocked. Next thing you know I'm making room in the vanity for 38 rolls of toilet paper, 3 bars of Dove soap, 2 tubes of Crest toothpaste and drying myself with what appears to be a bathmat we haven't used since 1970.

Dinners were always a production. Table for 13, please. Yes. 13. No, we didn't call ahead. I understand. Yes, very inconvenient. I know where you live! Now get me a table for 13!! Then, of course, you feel like baboons walking through the jungle, and everyone is looking at our butts.

It should also be pointed out here that everyone in my family was born with alligator arms. Not a one of them could ever reach the check. Every time we went to a restaurant, I just opened the door and threw my wallet in. They gave me back what was left.

Of course, the evenings always ended up with all of us sitting around reminiscing about everything under the sun. "Do you remember the time.." "Didn't you want to.." "Whatever happened to.." Me, being the oldest meant that it was up to me to fill in the blanks for the young 'uns.

All the chatter got me to doing my old man thing again. You know. Playing the "what ifs" and "if only" game in your head. Yes, when I was a boy, I wanted to grow up to be a baseball player. Then I wanted to be a photographer. Then an architect. I was good at all of them. But never achieved any of them.

Everything was always so clear when I was young. Nothing was impossible. What if I had made that 12-hour drive to El Paso that day for tryouts with the St. Louis Cardinals. Would I have been a ball player? We'll never know because my dad was in a bad mood that day and wouldn't let me use the car. Nothing was impossible. Except when it is.

I've had a lot of disappointment in my life. Things didn't quite go as I envisioned them in my mind. Didn't plan on getting drafted during Vietnam. Didn't plan on meeting my wife while in the Navy. Or having my daughter.

I'm retired now after 30+ years on the job. I'm comfortable. Moreso than most in this economy. I always had a plan. Or thought I did. There are days when I feel successful. And days when I feel like I underachieved. I try to strike a balance somewhere in the middle.

I didn't become a ball player. Or a photographer. Or an architect. Life had something else in mind for me. Something that would require all of my attention. I became who I was supposed to be. A father to my most beautiful daughter. And a grandfather to my most amazing breathtaking grandson.

While everything was so clear to me when I was younger, it took all these years for me to truly see. Life isn't set in stone. It isn't written in ink. Life is written in pencil. It is meant to fade or be erased. More often than not the lines are just smudged. We make of them what we will.