One tiny zimmerframe-assisted step closer to old age
Had he not died twenty years ago, my father would celebrate his eighty-seventh birthday today.
I feel old.
By the way, this is not a photo of my dad. I have a few with me in photo albums I took from my mother's house over a year ago. The idea was to scan them all and return the albums. They still sit there untouched.
The hunk in the picture is Robert Taylor, the actor my mother had a major crush on. She was fifteen when Waterloo Bridge came out.
And now I feel ancient.