My dad was a very good man. I wish I could go out to breakfast with him today like we’d done many times before. Now that I have sons of my own and they are out there making their own way, I understand why he was so happy to see me the infrequent times I showed up visiting. If I knew then what I know now, I would have spent a lot more time with him. Hidden under a bed in the Ukraine as a child when the Cosacks raided the villages looking to kill Jewish boys to first generation immigrant to America- our gap was more than generational. No wonder he didn’t like the Beatles! Love you pops!
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