On July 1, my sister told me that father had taken a turn for the worse. He didn't recognize anyone, wasn't speaking nor was he eating much or drinking. I went to see him. When I walked into his room, he opened his eyes. I said to him, "Do you know who I am?" And in a loud voice, he answered, "You're my son!" much to my sister's surprise. I said to him, "I bet you've forgotten your Greek." He answered, "Ah, sto diavolo," the Greek equivalent of "Go to hell" (although not as strong as in English). We are all greatly heartened by this rally on his part and altho' the end is inevitable, we are all breathing a bit easier today. I saw a framed picture of him at age 27 or so, when he posed for "Ring" magazine, handsome and muscular (but not disgustingly so), and I recognized what a great life he has had, he of that "Greatest Generation," who were raised during the Depression, fought in World War 2 and came home to found families and careers and to lead this nation into the prosperity of the 1950s and '60s, a golden age for these United States..
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