And that’s the end of the story
(Via the Drudge Report)
As a young boy, off from school for the summer, I can remember the good times when my father wouldn’t be traveling, and actually can home for lunch. His company had two old Jeeps that were used for field work (Dad was a land surveyor). I would wait in the front yard for him, and he would stop at the foot of the driveway and let me ride up with him. There were no doors and no seat belts, and that short ride was a Big Deal for me.
After lunch, he and my mother would adjourn to the back porch, to drink coffee, smoke cigarettes and listen to Paul Harvey on a cheap Japanese transistor radio (which he still owns). “This is Paul Harvey–stand by for news!”. I played in the area, half listening to the radio, understanding maybe 10% of what I heard. Mom and Dad understood it all. Sometimes they would be angry, sometime amused. They listened every day. If my Dad was traveling, my Mom listened alone on the porch.
As I got older, I listened to him on a semi-regular basis, whenever I was in range of a radio that could get a station he was on. I became addicted to “The Rest of The Story”, a program that would give the backstory (as we now call it) of famous figures. For some years I was actually able to listen every day on my drive home from work.
Rest in peace, Mr. Harvey. You are another of the people of my past who made me who I am today. Thanks.