My father tells stories of greasing trolley tracks (Hartford CT)
so it couldn’t go. No trolleys today, but boy oh boy
the trouble we’d be in. When he tells the story you
can see him reliving it, every moment of fun. My
dad has this air of being perfect and proper not
mischievous.
Joyce B. I just want to applaud your storytelling skills in Poem #14. Your Dad’s story is clipped down to its core message, and it is showing its finest moment — like someone shedding their burdens to show their best.