Sunday, February 26, 2012

BusterStronghart@Gmail.com

 
When he heard that I would be in London in April of 1967, my Dad, a discriminating gentleman from Brooklyn, who knew who was who, what was what, and where to get it, assigned me the chore of picking up a set of Turnbull & Asser monogrammed pajamas with blue piping , six shirts, and a robe.

Toward the end of his life my mother couldn't get him out of his Turnbull & Asser pajamas and robe. Had it been up to him he would have appeared at Jack & Charlie's or Toots Shor in those pajamas. I'm pretty sure that Jack Kreindler or Toots would have accepted him, but Mother was a tougher breed.

I thought of burying him in his favorite pajamas, but my sister's clearer head prevailed.