Driving the train

My mother doesn’t fly.  Never has, never will. She’s afraid of heights at every level. Airplanes, bridges, ladders–doesn’t make a difference to her–they’re all the same and she can’t do ’em.

That doesn’t mean she hasn’t gotten around (well, she’s 92 now, so her getting around days are kind of removed) but she’s managed to travel all over North America.

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In My Father’s Footsteps

IMG_7695It’s Father’s Day.  In case you didn’t know.

My father’s been dead for more than 50 years; he passed away when I was seven.

I can’t pretend to have fond memories of him, or any memories at all for that matter. Actually, that’s not true; I have some very vague recollections of a handful of specific events—some good, some not so good–but that’s about it.

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