When fathers are worth honoring, as was mine, me must. When not, we must honor fatherhood and the good Dads (as was mine).
An accountant from a small town volunteers to serve in WWII. Rejected for a hernia, he has it fixed and reapplies. At the end of the war, he is a captain who tours Europe briefly with his friend, Lieutenant Cohen, then rides the Queen Mary home. My mother, a schoolteacher, reintroduces him to Baby Jay, now a toddler.
John Gaskill was a kind, generous and jolly soul whose humility concealed genius. There are few of his type in this postmodern culture. My brother and I deeply, deeply miss him.