Dad was always about 47, give or take a decade. It’s like Willie Mays was always 30 to me. When I see those pictures or that stringbean of a young man, that wasn’t my father (and he was not yet my father, for most of that time). And in early days, I don’t recall that much.
Les Green had a lot of different jobs, including floral arranger, sign painter and singer/guitarist. But for six years or so, he worked at IBM, driving these electric trucks around, moving material from place to place. It was at night, so we seldom saw Dad, except on weekends. This was the period our mom would take us to W.T. Grant’s almost every Friday night to have the all-you-can-eat fish.
Still, we did see him on weekends Continue reading “Dad would be 90”