Dad taught me so many things. How to lay bricks around a pool, three years in a row. How to get the stones and make a retaining wall. He taught me how to eat an ice cream cone and drink a milkshake through a straw, He told me I could be anyone I wanted to be.

How to think about what kind of resume I would have, before and after I went to college. Having fun in Italy. Opening presents Christmas day. Midnight Mass.

Irish singers, beltway bandits, Iranian royalty, cellists, flautists, tenors, ballet and opera divas, theater a la art elope epiduris, you name it, he brought it.

I just brought the check and roses for the divas that were de-thorned and placed in little vessels to keep them “alive” to take off in time to hand them to him to take on stage, then place them back. College summers. It was a long time ago, I was with Program reading and complying with contract riders, my brother was a sweeper as a kid then Amp Crew. My sister worked gardening and early morning garbage truck after sleeping maybe two hours after she sneaked into our quarters. Baby sister was just a little kid.

Dad had an impact on all of us. We all got together for his funeral, which was lovely but a fiasco for his children. Beyond that we were able to get together once as our family, another brief time with cousins before everyone headed for the airport. It was a sad day, a good day when everyone told stories. I love stories. Art Alone Endures, art elope epiduris, that’s what it looks like above the stage in Erte style. Dee


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