My father at 87, ten years before he died.
He had changed his shirt because his white undershirt was sticking out and ruining the image. As he changed, I saw how gaunt he was around his neck and asked him to hold his shirt up with his hands. The image I saw reminded me of a bust of a statesman or revered man. My father was a salesman most of his life. I wanted to elevate this man to the level of recognition reserved for governors and distinguish him for his honesty and candor in his life.