It was Father’s Day, 1976. I was 26 years old. And it was my first Father’s Day without a father. He passed away eight months earlier, and it still weighed heavily on my mind.
I was living in New York City and working as a taxicab driver.
As I drove my cab around Manhattan that day, I couldn’t get this one song out of my head. It was by Judy Collins, called “My Father,” about an Ohio coal miner who promises to one day move his family to France.
So, I was stopped at a light on Park Avenue when someone jumped into …read more
Source: Bangor Daily News