Despite my personal commitment to post something at this blog each day, I’ve fallen short. In June, we moved my elderly father (91 and counting), into an assisted living facility here in Portsmouth. I’d hoped that ONCE he got into assisted living, my troubles would cease. I was wrong. Nearly every day, there’s something to be done, or someone to be called, or paperwork to tend to. It’s a lot to deal with.

In 1974, my father left my life for several decades. I didn’t re-enter his life in any significant way until 2000, when his second wife passed on. When I think of my father, I think of him as I remember him as he looked in the late 60s and early 70s. Funny how that works, isn’t it?

Dad with Tommy and Rickey, mid-1950s

My father and my brothers (Rick and Ed) at the Fleishhacker Zoo in San Francisco, about 1966.