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My Dad

I went to the local cleaners last Sunday (yes, they are open on Sunday), and to my disgust the boy (about 17 years old), who was left in charge was playing the most vile rap music one could imagine.   I have no grounds to complain about the "beat" the "melody" or the "harmonies".    What offended me was the language. It was vulgar and it was racist.  I spoke up and got a sarcastic response.

I started to think,  was I so different?  When I was 17, we were listening to Elton John, Paul Simon, The Eagles and Linda Ronstadt among others.   Although,  I hated what came next,  the dreaded Disco, this music was not offensive.  

My dad owned a retail establishment.   He was a very reasonable employer.  There were rules that had to be obeyed.  We never chewed gum in the store,  the cashier was never on the telephone while helping a customer,  we always smiled and thanked the customers and the music (which I often hated) was played softly and was inoffensive.

I don't know what happened to that type of establishment (except maybe Starbucks) or that type of employer, but I miss the consideration and the respect.

Today on Thanksgiving I will see my father, and I will thank him and tell him that I love him.   It's a cliche, but I wish I knew when I was 17 what i know now.

Jello

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