Yesterday marked five years that my father is gone. My mother, bless her heart, always calls me to make sure I'm "okay ". Then I call my brother, bless my heart, to make sure he's "okay". My brother and I usually get a kick out of that phone call because we always ask each other, "Did Mommy call you yet?" We miss him terribly but remembering is good.
This is a picture of my father on the front stoop of my grandmother's house in the Bronx. I'm guessing this was sometime in the seventies based on the gold necklace, the abundant chest hair peeking out of a shirt that's open practically to the navel, the shorty shorts (WTF?) and the...are those mesh shoes??? He looks like he could be in a Village People video. Although, as you can see, I got my shapely gams from my father.
You would never know that just a few years before, when I was three years old, my father was wearing this metrosexual ensemble...
To the petting zoo.