Last night, a friend was at a Knights of Columbus event and mentioned it on Facebook. The good thing about being an adult in the town you grew up in is that a lot of the people you associate with still go to the same functions at the same locations three decades later. I commented that I had many a memory there as a young girl, daddy/daughter dances and holiday meals and the like. Those events were always held in this dingy old hall that I remember as being very dark. I flashed back to feeling like such a grown-up ordering a Shirley Temple from the bar. I had forgotten about those things, you know. Like, a Shirley Temple was my go-to pregnant drink and I don't think I ever put that together until right now. Anyway, the friend said that her husband was talking about how my dad was the Family Director back in the day and she sent me the picture above. That's my dad's handwriting before it became practically illegible thanks to Parkinsons. There he is on the right, in all his young, chubby glory. Man. It's amazing the things you can forget before a single spark can send those memories flooding back.