He’s 86. He used to be half an inch taller than me. Now I’m a couple of inches taller than him. He used to be stronger than me. Then, while I was studying martial arts, I was stronger than him. (He didn’t like that; in this way, we’re similar.) Now, eh, given age and the vagaries of MS we’re probably about the same.
This photo was taken in the Canal Gardens at Roundhay Park a couple of weeks ago. I’m horribly jet-lagged but very pleased to be with my father again so soon after my February visit.
As Kelley said when she looked at the photo she’d taken, “Whoa, look at that genetic stamp!” I think we get more alike every year. I haven’t yet worked out how much I owe to my father, probably more than I realise. But I’ll be thinking about that now.
9 thoughts on “Me and my father”
Endearing photo. Made me smile.
I'm always happy to give someone a smile.
Very sweet! Beautiful.
Yes, remarkable. Great pic. So glad you got to visit again.
Also, your jacket is fantastic!
Have you ever heard the expression; “Looks like he spat her out”! Yep, spitting image. Striking.
Thanks. K picked it up from a consignment store a year or two ago but never wore it. She was about to donate it to Goodwill when I said, “Hey, I'll try that!” and it fitted pretty well. So now it's mine. One major inconvenience: no pockets. None at all. Tuh.
It must be hard being so far from family you love. So nice you got to go back so soon! Wonderful photos!
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