Look at the crazy old man with no shoes on. That's my tone deaf Dad, rocking hard at the backyard stage during Sister Julie's 30th birthday party in Yucaipa. I used to be embarrassed of my Dad. He stuttered, drove a creamsicle-themed Pinto for 240,000 miles and had a strange sense of humor. Now the guy can do no wrong. I love this guy, as does just about everybody who knows him. Not a mean bone in the man's body. Which is a minor miracle for a guy who had quite the temper many decades ago. But he has softened and mellowed with age. And I hear he's still not afraid, at 75, to get on the dance floor and pull off an excruciating singalong to Madonna's "Lucky Star." Keep rockin', Pop!
Do I know you? One man's attempt at a lifelong head count.
NOTE: If you think I might have a photo of you—most likely at least one great photo of you—don't be afraid to ask me to post it (firstname.lastname@example.org) along with a brief entry about how I know you. And if I've met or known you but don't have any photo evidence, feel free to send along YOUR favorite photo of you. (I'm fascinated by what that slideshow might look like.)