Things got even weirder this week with the deaths of Michael Jackson and Farah Fawcett. For years, Farah's poster -- the one with her in a bathing suit against the towel -- hung in my bedroom. And I remember, still today, walking into the record store and buying Jackson's Thriller album.

I still have the record, but the poster is long gone.

And the period of my life when both those events took place is now, nothing more than a memory. My little brother is no longer little and doesn't need me to defend him. And those high school yearbooks look like they were produced on some far distant planet.

Yeah, times have changed.

The world is scary, the economy rocky and the monuments of my childhood are nothing more than distant, fog-shrouded places. I know what my father was saying years ago, when he told me to enjoy being a kid because I wouldn't get those days back.

He was right.

Today, I don't spend my summers mowing lawns, hauling hay and splashing girls at the municipal swimming pool in Yale, Oklahoma. The little weekly newspaper I grew up in no longer occupies a spot along Main Street and many of the people I called friends now sleep forever.

And still, the earth rolls on its belly.

Over the past 30 years, I have morphed into my father. I have his fears, his desires and and his stubborness. More than ever, I have taken the best he gave me and made it my own.

My Dad knows the value of a slow, summer day and the joy of laughter. He still relishes a cold glass of lemonade; and cooking a huge breakfast for his children and his grandchildren is still his favorite occupation.

And along the way, my Dad collected the memories.

The trip to the Grand Canyon. Countless hours fishing. Sitting around the campfire at the lake. Hunting for the perfect cedar tree for Christmas.

Those memories he gave to me.

Yes, I have become my father. And I am now the keeper of his legacy, too. I'm charged with remembering the events of my life with him and my mother and I'm responsible for passing those memories along to my children.

All this, while time passes quickly and my life moves into its second phase. Yeah, Bob Dylan was right, the times they are a'chagin.