Father's Day Reflections

Last Sunday was Father's Day. The earliest memories I have of my late father when I was growing up were waking up on a weekend to the sound of the turntable resonating through the house. It will be a Broadway musical or some recordings of Placido Domingo or Mario Lanza. He would eagerly wake me up from sleep, so he would ask me to be his assistant for whatever project he was doing at the time. I'd be all grumpy and resentful on waking up too early on a non-school day. Thus, he'd call me teasingly his Mr. Aburido . Looking back, though, I c…