Tag Archives: Memories of Dad

I was a little Skunkneck

My father was wicked witty and claimed he did not have a creative bone in his body. You be the judge… He had his own vocabulary that would just flow out of his mouth such as “Bushwa” which was short … Continue reading

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Tears over Dental Fillings

My father was a dentist. His office was very much an extension of our home. His toy box sits in my entry hall; with the same lid that falls and hits your head when you peek for a prize so … Continue reading

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