Mr. Gannon

They would always call him Mr. Gannon. It wasn’t anything he requested. He would just prefer Rodney.

Before I had a car, my old man was always kind to those who drove me to the ballpark or school. I couldn’t handle the busses. That was just fist fight Spokane Central Station. When friends arrived at our house to pick me up, he would offer them apple pie. There was never an apple pie prepared.

Jokingly , he would yell downstairs to our mother and say “Get that pie started!” He just wanted their keys.

As my friends were laughing, that was the distraction. Stealing their keys and cars, he’d drive off to fill their tanks.

Properly, you should ask why he didn’t drive me to school or the ballpark. The answer is simple. I was a punk kid and didn’t want my 60 year old father as a chauffeur.

By my Junior year of H.S., he did get a car for me to drive. I had to lease it.

2 thoughts on “Mr. Gannon

  1. Perfect Father’s Day tribute. I get a kick out of all the stories about your Dad. He had such a wicked, dry sense of humor and a heart of gold. Cheers to Rodney!

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