They clutched the edges of that cardboard, reversible “Syr/Roch” sign that he carried to hitchhike to Rochester during his ‘sideburns’ phase. He did this often after my dad died in 1977 – to help my mom, to father us, even when he had so little time of his own working on his PhD at Syracuse University. And he wrapped them around mine when we sat on the brown and gold plaid couch in my mother’s family room watching Bad B movies together. Even Godzilla scared me then. He knew this and pretended to be scared, too.

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