I had a wonderful father...descended from the petticoat-wearing men of Dunquin, Ireland...very very funny..very well read with only about a 7th grade education. He was a postman and we never had enough money..it was almost a cashless existance..he said when he retired that every day he delivered mail to a cafe and every day he wanted a piece of pie that they served there but he never gave in and treated himself. He made a big pot of gluey grey oatmeal every day at 5 a.m. and it was ghastly by the time we had to eat it but oh well...

He had been a sub mailman to the communities around the Columbia River and knew the very prettiest spots..towns where they only spoke Swedish, towns all on stilts...he didn't ever say too much..but we never ever had a fight..in fact I don't know if any of my brothers or sisters had a fight with him. A decent man, which is the highest thing an Irish-Catholic could aspire to. mg