Robert Esterday, My fathers suitcase
I remember when my father took me to the Chicago Tribune to see the presses where the paper was printed. I was so in awe and looking upward at the noise and movement that I nearly stepped on the chain that ran along the flooring taking the papers and boxes through the presses to the loading dock.
He loved to get my mom mad by telling polish jokes. With little kids he like to show them how his thumbs could pull apart ( joke from the three stooges) he made paper trees , paper hats. He was a gentle soul, he loved his wife, Gloria and his kids and he died to early at 73.