Usually when my father and Kitty were in the same room she'd be on his lap. Or actually, on a newspaper on his lap while he read another section, forming a kind of cat sandwich. "You're full of hair," he'd tell her after she jumped up on him. Here he's reading the Marin County Independent-Journal
bearing a headline about President-elect Jimmy Carter. At this point, you may be wondering if he was ever seen without
a newspaper in his hands. Well, at other times, he'd have garden tools: trimming, pruning, cultivating, raking, watering. Or a steering wheel. Occasionally he'd be seen carving a roast. The reason this is a quiet time (around Christmas, as you can see from the decorations here and there) is that I'm not blasting my stereo, thus banishing him to the kitchen. I'd bought a Sony Trinitron to keep him and my mother company there at such times. That's my record collection on the rack behind him, and one of my Infinity Monitors is just visible peeking over the chair in the corner. My Kodachrome, lit by bounce flash.
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