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Fathers and mothers of fathers and mothers

I appreciate my father, and have many good memories of our relationship. He grew up in western Pennsylvania, in a town called South Connellsville in the days when the train engine “Old 60,000” pulled 300 coal cars through the mountains. The engineers knew Dad as the boy who collected stray coal in South Connellsville, and they would throw out some for him as they passed. That engine is now displayed at the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia. Every time I hear a train whistle, I think of Dad.

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