FOR AS LONG AS I'VE KNOWN HIM, my dad had always sported a moustache, now grown salt-and-pepper-ry sparse as he turns a glorious 66!
The photo above is of him in his youth, already moustached, and displaying that grin he puts on when being mischievous with work. Why is there a pot-bellied, toothless man in this storyboard frame? Or a bird doing a poo-poo in our dining room mural? Or a leaf of another plant growing from this painted branch? Thing is, you'd never even notice until he points them out to you. And he does so to have a laugh, pleased with his artistic prankishness.
While I inherited much of his temper and some of his artistic capabilities, I don't think I quite took after Daddy with regards to having a sense of humor. Maybe I need to grow a moustache for that.
Happy Birthday Daddy! Stay happy!
Rudy San Pedro, 1970.