Pat Conroy
Author
“Here is how my father appeared to me as a boy. He came from a race of giants and demi-gods from a mythical land known as Chicago. He married the most beautiful girl ever to come crawling out of the poor and lowborn south, and there were times when I thought we were being raised by Zeus and Athena.
After Happy Hour my father would drive his car home at a hundred miles an hour to see his wife and seven children. He would get out of his car, a strapping flight jacketed matinee idol, and walk toward his house, his knuckles dragging along the ground, his shoes stepping on and killing small animals in his slouching amble toward the home place.
My sister, Carol, stationed at the door, would call out, “Godzilla’s home!” and we seven children would scamper toward the door to watch his entry.
The door would be flung open and the strongest Marine aviator on earth would shout, “Stand by for a fighter pilot!””
Source: From his eulogy to his father, Colonel Don Conroy
