Every year at this time I stop and remember my father, one of the great racounteurs (and wits) of all time, at least so far as I am concerned. He was the one who named me Theophilus because I was the awfulest looking baby he ever saw.

Every year on the ides of March he would call me up and say, "eschew Communism." To which I would reply, "gesundheit."

Now, pray tell, why would the old feller say this to me?

He would have been 99 on the 28th ;>)


TEd