I miss my dad. He died in 1988. Nobody in the family talks about him anymore eccept for me and my mom. He and I were a lot a like. All of his old friends in the neighborhood say I remind them of him. A lot! We were both Irishman with the gift of gab who could tell stories and entertain people at the drop of the hat. But I always feel that the Italian side of my nature predominates. It leaks out like the grease in the bottom of a bag of zeppoles.
You could always talk to my dad. He ran away from home to join the army when he was 16. They lived above the funeral parlor and the undertaker was a bachelor and he wanted my dad to take over the business. He didn't want any part of that so he stole his brothers ID and went to Korea.
He met my mom when they were both worked in the Irving Trust Bank on Wall St. He kept teasing her about when she was going to invite him over for an Italian meal. When she did, he never left.
I love and miss you Daddy-o.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment