On handkerchiefs

I miss me Pops. He was truly my hero. And that makes me feel bad about saying anything which might even faintly cast doubt upon that. Believe me, though, I find what I am about to say rather humorous. And in no way incongruent to my feelings.

There are few ways in which I never wanted to emulate me Pops. Well, actually only one. As a kid, I remember him always carrying a handkerchief. He routinely would take it out of his pocket, blow his nose, crumple the thing up and put it right back in his pocket. I vowed quite often, quite emphatically, that I would never do that.

I think you can guess what has actually happened. The short, quick answer is: I carry a handkerchief in my pocket.

You're still my hero, Pops. Happy 83rd Birthday.