I remember the first time I met John, or Johnny B as most folks referred to him – it was at his daughter, Melodys wedding rehearsal, where I was best man for my friend Jeff. John was dressed in his best attire – new blue work pants with suspenders, blue suit with a white shirt and a navy colored neck tie. He had difficulty finding shirts with a large enough neck, so instead of the top button holding his shirt collar together, the task was forfeited to the necktie.
He and his wife Anne had married a bit later in life, as did both his daughters, so he was 79 years old at the time of Melodys wedding.
Anne told him, with a voice still slightly tainted with a Slovak accent, Papa, when you walk Melody down the isle, walk straight. Don’t walk like an old man.
John looked at her over his glasses and said, I AM an old man.
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