My dad turns 86 next month. He is the oldest in his family line, the patriarch, or “the Old Fart” as he prefers to call himself. I had the wonderful opportunity to sit down with Mom and Dad over the summer and talk, just talk, about different things—family, politics, memories of when I was a kid. But one the things I like best is getting Mom or Dad talking about when they were “younger”. I say younger, since Mom and Dad somehow have refused to grow old, despite the inconveniences of the aging process on their physical flesh and blood equipment.
Who knows how the topic came up; doesn’t matter. Dad began Continue reading ““We were only 19 and invincible””