As I have already observed, moving is my least favorite form of recreation. But it does have occasional compensations. Today, as I was picking through a box of material hauled over from Detroit two years ago, I found a photograph of my father, taken in 1964 when he was 48 years old. It's a good photo of Dad. Given the date, I suspect it may have been for use by Culver Military Academy, where Brad and I were students and Dad was serving on the Trustees. Perhaps I'll have it framed if there's wall space in the house.
My brothers will appreciate the note I found with it: "RBL photos were taken on January 23rd, 1964 — Proof #3 was selected — Receipt for payment was #7508..." and the receipt for a $10 deposit is stapled to the note. This memorandum detailing a relatively minor incident in his life is so "my Old Man." And, to a degree I might not wish to admit, it's so me, too. •••
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