The old man passed away ... can it be ... twenty-one years ago today? Yikes. Still miss his laugh, his enthusiasms, his endless love of the New York Yankees, and even all his annoying old fart-ness-es. Here are a few shots of dad in action. The first one taken by my mom on their honeymoon in Nassau, Bahamas, and the rest while he was on the job, as a reporter. He could very often be found with a camera in hand, or a pencil or pen, in search of a story. Miss you, pop.
...it's his birthday today. If he was still around he'd probably want to go see a movie. Is there anything with Meryl Streep or Bill Murray playing right now? He died in 1993. When he was alive he'd sometimes drive me nuts, inspiring me to intone, "My dad, wrong or wrong!" And I unfortunately seem to have inherited his temper. I'm working on that. But I also inherited his sense of humor, movie buff-ness, interest in art, science and history, and a penchant for getting into a particular subject and then wanting to read everything about it. With me right now, it's the world of Eleanor of Aquitaine. My dad, at different times, had Virginia Woolf, Thomas Jefferson, Cripple Creek, Colorado and the poetry of Wallace Stevens as his enthusiasms, to name a few. We all, if we were listening, learned along with him, because along with the temper there comes a genetic tendency to pontificate, or as we call it in our family, breathe. And did I mention the...
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