My dad knew every word to every song for every holiday or situation for every culture. That's a slight exaggeration but not much. At a Jewish wedding, the guests would be convinced he was a Jew. At the Feast in Little Italy, they'd swear he was a paisan. Of course at an Irish event, they just knew he was from the old sod. And so on.
Besides knowing the songs (and all the verses!) he sang well and did not have a shy bone in his body. He would sing at the drop of a hat - at work, in the yard, wherever.
Most of us would be too self-conscious to just belt one out in public but he wasn't. Of course being 6'4" and built like a linebacker may have eased any shyness.
My one sister had dinner at The Cabin in Wickliffe a few weeks ago and it triggered a forgotten memory that my Mom had about my Dad. She wrote about it in her latest Chat with Pat column.
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