My folks finally made it out west to San Francisco from Cleveland in 1984.  As I often did for relatives from back east, I gave them the tour of shakey-town, including Fisherman's Wharf.  Dad had been up late playing the slots in Vegas two nights before, and promptly came down with an awful cold.  Even so, he had enough humor left to ham it up in front of the submarine Pampano.

     Mom loved San Francisco.  In those days they were still healthy and full of life. Naturally at this time of year, I think of them both and miss them.  

     I had the photo made into a box of Christmas cards for them.  

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