My dad unexpectedly walked up to the front of the room and gave me a rose after my very last piano recital. I have my face buried in his shoulder because I was bawling. He also embarrassed me slightly with a little speech where I remember him saying he always wanted to hear one of his kids play this song (Claire De Lune - his favorite), and "tail end Charlie" - as he called me - finally did. The second I saw him rise from his chair with that rose in his hand, I burst into tears. It's hard to explain why, kind of a mixture of things. I knew it meant a lot to him. And he didn't always do stuff like this. It was one of my very favorite memories.
Many years later, this same song would be played at his funeral. It will always have
such special meaning to me.
And this next one is one I found of me in 1978. Was I cute or what?
I took it home because, in light of the recent butt obsession at our house,
I thought the girls would get a kick out of it.
I cropped it so you can't see (of course) but it looks as if
I was picking my butt.
So, there you go.