My dad loved the water. He served in the Navy in World War II, and I wonder if that time spent in the Pacific shaped him to love the sea as he did. Maybe those seas, those islands he visited were a balm to his soul in the midst of the frightfulness of war. The lapping of water against the shore, the hull of a boat, or the pilings on a dock seemed to put him at peace like nothing else ever did.
My dad loved pie too. It seems to me that all the men Iknew of that generation loved pie. Of course, my dad and uncles and their friends grew up in the country with gardens and berry patches that their mothers and sweethearts made into apple, peach, raspberry, blackberry, gooseberry, rhubarb, etc., pies. I made many a pie to put a smile on my dad's face. His favorite cream pie was butterscotch: a labor intensive version that started with carmelizing white sugar. It was delicious!
My dad loved pie too. It seems to me that all the men Iknew of that generation loved pie. Of course, my dad and uncles and their friends grew up in the country with gardens and berry patches that their mothers and sweethearts made into apple, peach, raspberry, blackberry, gooseberry, rhubarb, etc., pies. I made many a pie to put a smile on my dad's face. His favorite cream pie was butterscotch: a labor intensive version that started with carmelizing white sugar. It was delicious!