John Rospo

My memories of my father are mostly from the time of my early childhood and they are some of my best memories.

In those days (the late 50's and early 60's) families in our neighborhood escaped to the front porch to try and catch a cool breeze and have a cold drink on the porch swing. The house was just too hot to bear.

My father would let me sit beside him on the swing as he smoked his pipe or, if the mosquitoes were swarming, a big Cuban cigar. I had a voracious appitite...