When my dad was inducted into the National Academy of Engineering we had a family gathering and I wrote a toast for him. Although written a few years ago, I opted not to read it today in the past tense because I feel like he is somehow here, present in the smiles of his grandchildren, in the tears of my mother, in the good humor of my brother Jeff, in the hardworking nature of my brother Jordan and in all of our hearts.

"Dad, today is a moment of great pride for your family. With your National Academy distinction, we reflect on your other great achievement, as a father -- a job for which you have had no formal training and received no awards, yet you have done splendidly with very poor pay for the past 40 years.

Many years ago, you made the mistake of asking us kids to grade you as a father. As an awful teenager, not partial to grade inflation, I gave you the highest mark -- a B minus. As a seasoned 32-year old, and a parent myself now, I am amazed at how rapidly your grades have improved. If there was a National Academy of Dads you would've been a senior fellow a long time ago.

I know we probably depend on you too much for advice. We call you with questions about everything from what car to buy to what job to take. What is so great about you dad is you tackle each problem with the same enthusiasm that you approach a pollution problem in the Hudson River or Boston harbor. It's not that you know anything about the subjects that we call you on, I mean even at your beloved Harvard, was there a graduate class on floor coverings? or how to impress a judge in court? -- but you know how to think these things through. I'm sure we only take your advice a collective 50 percent of the time, but we REMEMBER your advice a full 100 percent of the time because you are practically always right.

Thank you dad for impressing upon us the importance of education, for sending me to college and not being too disappointed when I didn't choose MIT... or rather didn't have the grades to even APPLY to MIT. Thank you also for not holding a grudge when I quit working for Pirnie, the company you love with all your being. Thank you also for offering to change the name of the company to Busch and Father if I came back to work.

While not a teacher by training - Jeff s chemistry grades and my algebra grades can attest to that (should've hired another tutor mom!)- you taught us so much by example. Things like: how to eat well and how if you suck in your stomach when stepping on the scale you at least FEEL thinner; how to speak with confidence about subjects one knows nothing about; how singing really makes a car ride go faster; how lunch and hot cocoa breaks are the BEST part of skiing; how a good story can get you a long way in this world, and how eating a bag of donuts doesn't count as far as calories as long as you eat the entire bag and destroy all evidence of wrappings.

You encouraged us to find something we love to do. You taught us the satisfaction of spending time with our children, mates, parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles cousins and siblings. You taught us how to laugh at ourselves and from your example we learned the meaning of generosity and the importance of fun.

With your wisdom, sense of humor and BRILLIANT genius you are inspiration to us all and today we are all so proud of you."

I'm glad I had the chance to tell these things to my dad while he was alive and only wish that there would be more opportunities to tell him in person how lucky I feel that he was my dad.

Finally, Dad will continue to live in our memories and through the telling of the stories about his life. When you leave today: remember my dad, tell the stories of Paul Busch. Over time the stories will get better; he would've loved that.