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The Stranger I Never Knew

July 4, 2012

My Father was a baker and worked for one of the most well-known pastry shops in Miami during the late 1960s and early 1970s. My aunt was a counter girl and introduced him to her sister, who became my Mother.

One very sunny day, my Father was so proud of a cake he baked that he took it upon himself to hand-deliver it to the customer. He jumped in his car and never returned. Consequently, he died on July 4th and was only able to meet me thanks to Eastman Kodak. I was 10-days-old.

The other driver was a physician on-call who ran a stop sign rushing to the hospital to save a life.


Dear Dad,

July 4th can sometimes be a strange day. The entire country celebrates its independence while I think about and mourn your death under my breath. However, this year I do not want to feel guilt or be depressed. I am watching the fireworks from two parties on the 22nd/29th floors of a high rise in the upper west side. I just wish that you were, at the very least, able to taste the icing on that fucking cake!

I love you!


From → Risky Biz

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  1. A Meeting With a Stranger. « Ralphie´s Portal

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