Nancy Roman

Tag Archives: Father

The Smartest Person

My father died this past Christmas.  Yesterday was his birthday.  He would have been 89. My Dad was a man of great intelligence and corny jokes. As an engineer of precision gauges, he had a PhD mind and a high school diploma. He sang dumb words to old songs. “It had to be stew.  Meat …

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Don’t Call Me Shirley

My father named me.  My father named all four of his children.  I supposed my mother figured she’d love us so keenly regardless of our names, she let my father choose. My mother told me many times that she had wanted to name me Collette. But my father named me Nancy. There is an old …

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