My first recollection of my Dad is not good, but it was my fault. A story I have told on here before about getting the whipping of my life.
I had been instructed to never ever cross Graymont Avenue without an adult. Well, in 1945-46 there weren't a helluva lot of automobiles whizzing up and down Graymont. So a friend, who was probably under the same edict, and I disobeyed and went over to play in the park next to Legion Field. When my Dad got through with me I remember thinking I might have been better off being hit by a car. I thought he was going to kill me.