I sort of forgot it was, on account my father sort of forgot he was one along around 1976.
Life is dumb, so now his second wife, the remarkable Serpent Woman, regularly sends me packets of things she has cleared out of his desk, including a jumble of photographs going back three generations.
The cat thing seems to have been hereditary. Along with the music, which almost goes without saying.
God and Montreal alone know what these men would think of me, throwing bloody great dumbbells around, swearing like a sailor’s parrot. I was my father’s only son. For whatever it’s worth.
Sixteen Tons 
This and Mother’s Day, such awkward “holidays”. The phrase that comes to mind is the Catholic “days of obligation”. Thank you so very much, Hallmark.
I’m reminded of a client of mine whose favorite holiday is Flag Day, because no one’s expected to gin up a whole lot of feeling of any kind, certainly not toward an actual person.
Wow, last photo looks very much like Apricat.
It was a lady cat, named Dopey (I don’t know why) that my father’s family had when he was in school.
Now at least we know how your face is. Not as bad as you keep saying. I read the post about your stepmother and her snakes. After you he had to find a woman like that, no surprise 🙂
I do have some permutation of the family face, but it always looks to me like someone decided to do a mild but mean caricature with one of those Mr. Potato Head toys where you can put on the features however you want.
Serpent Woman is really as little like me as can be imagined, except for the cat thing. She looks like Peter Pan and never converses about anything except what happened that day; I know she reads books and listens to music, you just would not know it to talk to her.
I love the photos … particularly the first one. Father’s Day is a weird occasion. I commemorate it only because my father is my business partner, and also because it’s worth $20 and some minimal thought to spare my mother the temper tantrum he would throw if I didn’t acknowledge it, however nominally. NB: He forgot that my 40th birthday was last week. The joys of being parented by a narcissist are without number.
Don’t I know it.
Happy Belated Birthday to You!