Tonight I write from Las Vegas—Paradise, Nevada, they call it—hunkered down at the Motel 6 on Tropicana. Life has a way of landing us in unexpected places while reminding us who we are.
I am proud of all my children.
Ben, my miracle son.
Valerie, my daughter of strength and resolve.
And Victor, my firstborn.
When I looked into Victor’s newborn eyes, I did not just see a baby—I saw God looking back at me. That moment never leaves a man. Ever.
There are seasons when silence replaces conversation, when distance grows where love once flowed freely. I honor that boundary (but not very well). But silence does not cancel history, and distance does not erase a father’s pride.
Whatever paths my children walk, whatever names they carry, whatever stories they are still writing—I bless them. I have always been proud of them, and I remain so.
A father’s love does not retire.
It does not keep score.
It simply bears witness.
On the occasion of Victor’s 53rd Birthday, January 31, 2026.
Charlie Wear's Notes 
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