I hadn’t seen this picture of my father until recently. He died in 1981. This is so typical of how happy and loving he looked the last few years of his life, once his children were grown and he retired. He was a loving grandfather, endlessly patient and loving. He never tired of his grandchildren. At this point in his life, he couldn’t get enough of his family. I am glad to have this memory.
Among my possessions, I number one precious gift from my father. He had a bowl and pitcher set made for me and each of my three sisters. I have mine in my writing room, where I see it every time I enter and leave. I only remember him buying me two gifts. The other was a keychain he bought in Mexico, which fell Continue reading