I always thought the reasonable way to run this blog was in chronological order. That every letter would sequentially unfold the story of my father’s life.  As I read through the letters thus far, I already learned the most important thing about his life:  Mickey loved my mom so completely, so unequivocally, and so purely. Yes, he was a great guy. And he liked folk music and baseball. But the love for my mom, that was what sustained him. That was what gave him life.

This video post dates a lot of what I will write about later, since he’s come home from the service here. But it was really too good to wait to share.

(There is no sound. These were old films that were digitized.)

To know of a love like my mom and Mickey had, to be proximate to it, is quite something. The fact that it was only around for a short period of time is tragic, indeed.  But talking about him with family and reading his letters keeps this alive.  In my mind, it’s a permanent installation in the Museum of Perfect Things.