My Teenaged Dad

It's 1957 and who can blame him? He's hiked up his trousers in the breeze from my great-grandfather's old window fan.

He's war-tested Dad of the first order by this time of the season, and his Dadlike gaze is completely oblivious to the wild, hallicinogenic wallpaper.

That's my old man! Ready to raise a family, ready for anything.