Father's Day

Me with my Dad and my Mom. June 1961.

I have remarkably few photos of my father, even fewer of the two of us, and fewer still of me with both my parents. This isn't surprising considering he died when I was six years old and my parents were separated at that time. I have no memory of ever living in the same house with him.

My only memories of him involve riding in his convertible. He picked me up and took me to his parent's house for dinner nearly every Sunday. I know that he played golf, and according to his military discharge papers, he had clerical skills. Also, he worked as a salesman for a medical supply company at the time of his death.

Really, that's not much. I often wonder what kind of person he was, and how we would have gotten along as I grew up.

Anyway, this Father's Day I'm thinking about my Dad.