My dad was a salesman. He regularly left home on two-week missions to sell more of his “stuff,” in order to pay the mortgage for a home large enough to house my mother and their seven children.
I was #2, and I remember those days like it was yesterday. “Mike,” you say, “who cares?” Stay tuned. I am talking to you.
My dad loved to fly, and he loved his work. Based on our comfortable living conditions while growing up in a big house open 24/7 to all shape and size kids and their friends, he was a pretty good salesman.
Flying used to be an exciting proposition. I suspect that another reason he enjoyed traveling so much had a little to do with that Read the rest of this entry »