Family of Respect

Before my father died, we were in the nursing home. He was in a wheel chair because he was blind from diabetes. Various people came to say hello to him. After the line of well-wishers ended, he looked at me and said, "Isn't it nice to be a family of respect?"  The dream of this writer is to measure up to what his father achieved. I live in a town of 6,000 and I am very aware of how others perceive me and act accordingly. By others, I mean the "town fathers and mothers," not the beer bar drinkers.