Daddy-O

I don’t know if it was growing up in frigid Brockville, Ontario, Canada, or the repressive practices of nuns in Catholic School but almost from the beginning of his life as a “landed alien” in the United States, my father was crazy about convertibles–Mustangs, Pontiacs.  Even though he lived most of his years in places with limited summers–Minneapolis, Denver, Washington DC, Santa Fe–he loved the free feeling of driving with the top down.  Many, many years after the groovy 70s picture above, he met my husband and I and our year-old son, Harry, at the airport in Tucson, Arizona, in a Chrysler convertible whose back seat was too small for Harry’s car seat!  If they have them in heaven, my guess is he’s driving one.