Saturday, February 8, 2014
Born in 1914
He was a very bright man who didn't go any further than high school, which was par for the course for someone born on a iittle farm to Irish immigrants at the beginning of the 20th century. In those days, it seems to me, the only people who went to college were children of parents who had gone to college, or who had wealth.
He was a lifelong reader who married a lifelong reader who both gave me their love of reading. He's the one who introduced me to poetry, too.
One of my favorite memories is a trip he and my mother and I and one of my college classmates made to England and Scotland in 1972. My parents had never been on a plane, much less out of the country, but I managed to talk them into it. I can still see them, as we lifted off from Philadelphia, looking out of the window of the plane at the city, shimmering in the night lights below. I can still see them as we emerged from the London Underground to the sight of Big Ben. I could go on and on, but enough.
He worked his whole life at gas stations. By the time I was 9, he had his own station, where he stayed until he retired at 65. People loved him.