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My father was a rather quiet person who hid his emotional side with a teasing sense of humor. He taught us charity by example, corrected behavior when necessary, and gave sound advice for making decisions.
Since I was the only girl in the family, the privileged “Daddy’s girl” relationship naturally fell to me. I have many warm memories of my special times of togetherness and bonding with my father.
In the earliest, I am sitting on his lap while he reads the Sunday comics. One of the most vivid memories is from a December evening when we went window shopping. How well I remember standing hand-in-hand on the snowy, deserted downtown sidewalk, admiring the large display of toys in the lighted store window. Another time we went to buy me a little chord organ my father had seen advertised. It didn’t have the greatest sound, but he and I did not care. I practiced away on it by the hour and sometimes played for him when he came home from work. It seemed to…
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