Happy belated birthday, Herbie.

Yesterday would have been my father’s 96th birthday. I didn’t forget to mention it in my last post ... I just refused to deal with the grief that I only have three pictures of him — THREE! — all of which I’ve published before and I didn’t know if I wanted to bore you again with the same ones. Incidentally, if you want to know why I’m in this predicament it’s because my mother — a few years before she died and for reasons only known to her — THREW OUT EVERY FAMILY PHOTO THAT EVER EXISTED. Family vacations, my cousins’ bar mitzvahs, my grandparents, school events, my parents’ baby pictures, all of my baby pictures, you name it, they’re gone. And I didn’t find out until a month or two after mom passed away last year, when I asked my sister how we should divvy up all the family photos ... and she hit me with the truth bomb instead. I still cry every time I think about this. Even from the grave mom made me feel like garbage.