father, brother, me: years ago

Earlier this week, my father took the time to drive me back to a favorite childhood neighborhood, for a story I had long planned to write for the Inquirer.

It was a time-tripping trip, a way-way back, and I am, as always, grateful to my dad, who does so many things for us all.

Today, as I wrote the piece for the Inquirer, I went way, way back again, this time to an album of old photographs.

I especially like this picture here, of my father, my brother, and me. It's Christmas in Woodbine. We're happy.