Day 144
Random number 279
Write down memory of my dad
He taught me chess. He taught me the word scrumptious. He tried to teach me how cars work. He taught me to change a tire.
He thought I was amazing and funny and smart. He laughed at all my jokes.
A month before he died, he wanted to buy life insurance so he could take care of me and Maureen. But they never would’ve sold it to him.
He was a picky eater not that he’d admit it. He ate nearly the same thing all his life: meat, potatoes and a veg — and a narrow selection of veg. But he was *obsessed* that I wouldn’t eat a tomato.
He loved rock n roll. He even tried to stay hip in his 30s with The Tubes… but then retreated back to classic rock. He loved the Traveling Willburys so much.
Not any real concrete detailed memories here. Maybe I’ll think of one later. I wrote this on the plane to NYC… his birthplace which cracked him up. He has no memory of the place; he left when he was 1. It was a short assignment for his dad; they were really Philadelphians.
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