The dark mutterings of a former mild-mannered reporter for a large metropolitan daily newspaper, now living in obscurity in central Indiana.
My father, seen here at Niagara Falls around 1954, would have been 104 yesterday. He died in 1997 at the age of 87.
I always loved this photo of him looking cool and stylish in his vacation duds. I was still a work in progress.
Post a Comment
No comments:
Post a Comment