One year I listed the contents of my Food Bag in a notebook. I wanted to remember the details to tell my friends, and I suppose as a record for myself, for the day when I might not get a Food Bag for Christmas. I was 44 when my father gave me that Food Bag, and he was 72. The bags were so overstuffed that I often had to put most of the food in a box and mail it home. In some ways, my father’s character resembled a fruitcake: whimsy and a little nuttiness mixed with a sweet foundation.

Source: New York Times December 21, 2018 05:00 UTC