Usually Terry was the one Dad would invite, or he'd take us both. Dad worked long and hard hours, and these times we could spend with him were special, but he looked at me in his arms, smiled, and said, "Terry will be fine. This time, it's just you and me." I nodded and said, "Okay."
Dad helped me into the truck and fastened me in. Then, he went around and slid into the driver's seat next to me. "Safety first" was his motto--at least until he was out of range of mother.
The sky overhead was cloudy as the truck made its way through the city streets. I had no clue where we were headed, and Dad was paying attention to the road. So, it was rather quiet besides the wind. A few minutes later, Dad rolled up the windows and turned on his favorite radio station, and from the speakers came the alluring melodies of Sinatra. "Nothing beats the classics," Dad always said.
agical and fantastic ways."
I gazed up my Dad's arm at him, with a look of wonder spreading across my face, not sure what to say to that. But somehow, I managed a, "Wow!"
We made our way inside the building through spinning glass doors and into a marble-floored lobby. The interior of the building contrasted with the wondrous view from outside. On the exterior the building seemed to stretch to the sky, but the ceilings inside were much lower than one would think; seven feet tall at the most. It looked like an office building, but with doors to rooms instead of cubicles. Coming to a central desk, where a woman sat in her chair on the phone and drumming her fingers, Dad placed his hands on the desk’s surface and said, "We're here for the 10:30 show."