“Growing up we were so poor I had to share a bed with my brother. It wasn’t until I got married that I got to sleep by myself” – Harold Fox
It’s possible my father’s told that joke a thousand times. Actually it’s probable he has! There is no shame in recycling humor. Any good joke or good story is worth repeating.
Today is my dad’s 85th birthday. My sister and brother-in-law are in Florida right now celebrating with my folks. Helaine and I aren’t able to be there right now, but I hope we’re there in spirit.
I remember asking him if turning 80 was what he thought it would be. “It’s not the kind of thing you think about until you’re 79,” he replied. I’m not reaskinig the question today!
I thought this might be a good time to tell one of my favorite stories about my dad.
Like many men his age he served in World War II. To swell the ranks any 18 year old enlisting got a free pass on whatever high school time he had left. My dad figured the Navy couldn’t be worse than high school so off he went.
He had led a sheltered life seldom never venturing far from his neighborhood in Brooklyn. He’d been to New Jersey. He’d been to Pennsylvania. That was about it. Now he was in boot camp with naval recruits drawn from the entire country.
On the first day all the men were handed a form asking for vital statistics.
“Write your name exactly as it appears on your birth certificate,” they were told. My father complied.
A little while late a chief petty officer rushed into the roomful of recruits with a single sheet of paper. “Who’s Baby Fox,” he growled?
Baby Fox is a great grandfather now. He’s a great everything. Happy birthday daddy. Many happy returns!