This coming Saturday is my father’s 96th birthday. Though he’s been gone for over twenty years, I still think of him on Father’s Day and his birthday. I remember him on Thanksgiving, carving the turkey, his Ho-Ho-Ho’s at Christmastime, plowing snow in winter, tilling...
In the 50s and 60s, my father dressed like Father Knows Best – baggy trousers and jacket with wide lapels, white shirt (always white), striped necktie, brown socks and indestructible brown leather shoes. He’d stand all six feet four inches with his left hand in his...
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