Pictures of You (#15)
Last Monday, Nov. 30, would’ve been my father’s 99th birthday. That’s just a number, a family anniversary, and not entirely relevant since he died in 1972, cut down by a heart attack at the age of 55. And, given that he was born in 1916—on the kitchen table at his family’s modest Massachusetts home—it’s unlikely that even if his arteries weren’t clogged he’d have reached 99. Or wanted to. As it happens, my parents were married in 1940 on the same date, so that’s a mythical 75-year marker as well. Читать дальше...