If I make it to 90
I love my Dad. He has always been there for me.
When I was little, he carried me on his shoulders. And when I got married, he walked me down the aisle.
He dished up ice cream sundaes and banana splits in good times, and cried hidden tears in bad.
But now that he’s past 90…
He needs to understand that when you live 2000 miles away, an unclear phone message means something. And even the lack of a message means something.
Once my Dad phoned the house and left the ominous message: Hi, Honey, it’s your Dad, call me.
Well , since my Dad never phoned me, this being the usual task assigned to my Mother, who wouldn’t assumed the worst? And So my husband dashed over to the shul where I was teaching fifth grade Sunday School students about Jewish sages. He wrangled the Principal out of her…
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