My father died almost 49 years ago. He was a very complicated man, an immigrant who never told my brother and me that he was not born here. He had some ups and downs until my mother came into his life. But his great sense of humor and his hard work got him where he wanted to be.
The other day I was in a car with a friend who was considering parking in a questionable spot near a “no parking” sign. I thought of my father who had a good line for such a situation. His response, delivered with a twinkle in his eye, was “It says “No Parking”, but it doesn’t say Positively” always got a chuckle from us.
Dad, a chain smoker, died of lung cancer in 1972. I wish we could sit down together for a good catch-up talk.