Inspired by Oxymoron67
My father would be 100 years old today, were he alive. Something Sean wrote hit a clicky thing in my head, and I'm now remembering this:
I'm guessing I was fifteen at the time, which means my dad would have been 59.
Mom had, as I think most women had at the time, three or four full-length slips to wear under her uniform (she was a nurse, and the uniforms then were not like the scrubs of today - they were much more like dresses). Some event was coming up. I'm thinking it was her birthday. My father took three of those slips to a department store - one white, one cream, one ambiguous green lovely color - and asked the salesperson to sell him bras and panties to match, sizewise and colorwise. All these years later, I remember his delight in the task. However, my mother was so repressed that when she opened the box, all she could focus on was how much she'd missed those slips. To me, now, that is an unimaginably romantic thing for a guy to do.
It is good that I remember these things, because so much of my parent's marriage struck me as painful and sad. Experiences like this stand out . My mother was all-utilitarian. My dad was the romantic, but he could never quite figure out how to express it with her.
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