Coats and Dogs
Soccer Grandmother


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.


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This really resonates with me. My dad died 28 years ago and there are so many questions that I would like to ask him now. At the time I was too concerned with my growing teens to think of how important it might have been to me, but most of all to him.


I just went to read your post Cantaloupe but was unable to leave a comment there, so came back here to do so since the cantaloupe and my dad go together.

My dad was a cotton farmer on the west side of the San Joaquin Valley. This is also cantaloupe country. During the summer we too ate cantaloupe every day and often grew our own or knew the growers who did. I still have a farmer friend who grows organic cantaloupes, hundreds of acres of the best melon. I really do wonder where you are getting cantaloupes in the winter? And how they taste?

My dad died in 1968, at the end of a hard day of work, irrigating cotton fields. I often think of him, working so hard, on hot summer days, to make a living for us. I would like to tell him just how much I appreciate that legacy that he left for me.

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