Dad loved comedy, and I loved watching it with him and Owen and Mom in the TV room. His absolute favorite was Buddy Hackett.
Now, Dad inhaled a pipe all his adult life. When I was a kid, if Dad got on a laughing jag, he’d start coughing at some point and inevitably end up coughing up phlegm into the clean, neatly pressed white handkerchief he always carried in his right front pocket. So if Johnny Carson said, “Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Buddy Hackett!” Mom would get up and leave the room. But the phlegm didn’t bother me and Owen.
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