Back in the 60's and 70's when I was growing up in a suburb of Philadelphia, my father had a white collar job at the local steel mill. Once a week during the summer months he would come home from work, remove his tie, sit down to dinner, then head outside to mow the lawn. Even though I had five brothers all equally capable of mowing the lawn, my father felt as though it was his job to take care of his property. And he also held the belief that if you wanted something done right you had to do it yourself. But that's beside the point. The point was that he mowed the lawn in a white dress shirt--granted he unbuttoned the top button and rolled up the sleeves, but under no circumstances did he ever leave the house with the shirt untucked--not even to mow the lawn. I don't think any one of us thought it peculiar until the neighbors began talking and snickering. We just shrugged it off as another of dad's quirks, and he had many.
Now fast forward 40 years or so, I hear Pat's car pull up as he heads home from work this evening. He brings his coffee cup inside, drops it in the sink, removes his tie, sits down to dinner, then heads outside with his shotgun in hand to mow down a few gophers. I froze as I gazed out the kitchen window seeing my husband outside with a shotgun in hand wearing a white dress shirt with the top button undone.
Am I making too much of this or did I marry my father?
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