Dad had a workshop in the basement, and now that we had a dog, he had to build a doghouse. If I could contain myself, he’d let me sit off to the side and watch him work. Since this was housing for my very first dog, I sat on my hands and clamped my mouth shut so as not to miss a moment. Of course he had the radio on as he worked; both parents always had a radio going. I vividly remember “It’s Impossible” playing as Dad drove in wood screws, and getting a little teary about it. I don’t know why. This may have been the exact moment my sentimental streak kicked in, which has always been accompanied by being nostalgic for a moment even as it’s happening. To this day, the song is my Dad building a doghouse and it makes me blubber like a baby.
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