My dad is going to be 89 in a few short weeks.
He's a tiny little Sicilian dude - first generation American, really, but he wears the Sicilian badge proudly because of what it meant to be a "bottom of the barrel" immigrant's child back in the 1920's.
He lived through the Great Depression and enjoyed it.
He married my mom as the world was engaging in its epic battle with the Nazi philosophy and mindset.
He spent his working life doing a job he loved for people he despised, managing to avoid debt and still providing a nice home and a comfortable life for his wife and three children.
He continues to honor his marriage vows in caring for my mom, who has become an invalid and has lost most of her cognitive abilities.
He's still sharp and active and a total pain in the ass. He remains one of the very few in this world who can raise my ire with the turn of a phrase. He installed my buttons and has not forgotten how to push them.
God bless my dad.




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