Teaching me to kiss.
I think of him every time I hear Elvis. Anytime I take a swig of Listerine. When I strike up a conversation with a stranger or make his famous ‘egg in the hole’.
This was him.
I will always have one of his handkerchiefs in my purse.
This was him.
He used to send me up the hill to collect golf balls as he practiced chipping. I got good at dodging them.
This was him.
He’d toss me onto the roof with ease when it was time to clean out the gutters. He’d follow along on the ground and I never feared falling. No doubt he’d catch me.
This was him.
I always felt protected… sometimes a little too protected. Any boys who came around will attest to that.
This was him.
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