uring the summer of 1978, my father was in California, attending an Army reunion and spending a few days with me, as well.

I took him to visit a friend of mine, and we wound up in my friend's yard, near his son's playhouse. I had brought my camera with me, as had he.

Never one to waste a photo opportunity, he said to my friend and I, "Want to see how agile I am?" Before we could answer, my 76-year-old father, wearing his suit and hat, walked over to the elevated playhouse, put down his camera, got underneath the playhouse, grabbed onto a horizontal bar with both hands, and started swinging. Of course he swung long enough for me to take his picture.

My father, putting down his camera and letting out some of his joyfulness in summer 1978.

It was more than just the exhibitionist in my father that caused him to perform for us. He was celebrating his good health and physical fitness, which afforded him an active life style the envy of folks many years younger than him.

A year later he wouldn't even be able to hold a spoon in his hand.