Happy 88, Malibu Bob

 Tomorrow, Happy 88, Dad.
You giant pain in the ass,
who taught me so much,
when you thought I wasn't listening.

Mom' still pissed you left a mess wherever you were. She thinks your idea of letting dirty dishes sit in the sink for a few hours to let the crude roll off them instead of getting them done, one, two, three, "came out of your bony ass."

Shown here, a portion of my father's art.

Happy Mother's Day, Uncle Mommy!

In July 1963, our 83rd Street building sprung a gas leak. We had no cooking stove for a week. Even though we ate out or could eat at our grandparents on York Avenue, we still got hungry at home.

One afternoon...
“Mom, make us a grilled cheese.”
“Mom, make us a grilled cheese.”
“Mom, make us a grilled cheese.”
“Be quiet or die,” cautioned Mom.
“I’m so hungry,” Rory pleaded
“I feel weak,” I said.
“My head hurts.”
"I can’t feel my toes.”

“Your short lives are nearing their end. I’ll kill you both.”

After we wore her out, Mom made us grilled cheese sandwiches using her iron and ironing board. Made herself one too. They were delicious, but Dad’s dress shirts smelled like buttered toast for a long time.

Happy Mother's Day, Uncle Mommy! all our love, Rory & Tommy

ps one day Mom asked me why I called her Uncle Mommy, and I told her, "because you're the best uncle I ever had!"

If you enjoy my work, check out my memoir, "I Hate the Dallas Cowboys - tales of a scrappy New York boyhood." It's available at  Logos Bookstore, 1575 York Avenue, or buy it online at Amazon,  Barnes and Noble or other booksellers. If you do read it, please leave a few honest words about the book on Amazon and B&N. Thank you!  (125 five-star Amazon reviews out of 125 posted)

"Brother, Can You Lend Me A Dime?"

I'll add his name when I learn it, but this puppy was almost a kidnap victim at Biscuits & Bath this morning.

I was that close.