My father sent along this picture to me, of him and my mother back in their married days, which were also coincidentally his Navy days, which means that in this picture both of them are about 20 years younger than I am at this moment. Which messes with my head, it does. I have no idea what it is the two of them are doing in the picture, although if I had to guess, I’d say he’s handing his paycheck over to mom there. Which is, oddly enough, pretty much exactly what I do when I get checks. Not to mom, though. To my own wife. You know what I’m saying, here.
But what I notice most is that dad is rocking the full-on Jim Croce mustache there in the picture, which, while it doesn’t conflict with the Navy uniform is still nevertheless a reminder that facial hair fashions were different back in the day. No aspersions to dad, but these days seeing a fellow in that suit with that ‘stache would cause me to look around to see if I could also spot the cop, the cowboy, the construction worker and the Native American in the chieftain hat. It was a more innocent, less disco-y time back then, I suppose.
Also, those of you who know me will be able to look at those two faces and see which parts of my own face come from which parent: Eyes, nose and mouth from mom, but eyebrows? All dad, man. Genetics. I’m telling you.