As you may know by now,
my dad died when I was six,
and all I have are brief flashes of memory
and funny anecdotes from my mom and brother.
I just learned, for example,
that Dad never ate chicken
and didn’t appreciate it
when Mom tried to hide chicken in his pasta.
I asked Mom why he felt so strongly about it,
and she gave me some vague answer
about how he grew up on a farm
and thought chicken were filthy birds.
Maybe I’m better off not knowing the particulars.
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