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Randi Rapkin's Autobiography (submitted 5/9/06)

This story is dedicated with miles of love to my mother, Annette, who once drove me everywhere and to whom I'm certain I drove crazy.

George Drives At Night

"Are you going to that there party?" yells my partially hard of hearing dad, George, on the phone. I am in awe of my father for many different reasons. After decades of being my dad, I still revere his being, even if his command of the English language isn't great. As a result of his driving abilities and other desirable attributes, he is sought after by numerous women (and even some men!)

Starting life over at seventy has its own set of challenges. It is difficult to break into a tight knit town like Philadelphia, especially if you are a widower born and raised in New York. After the death of my mother in 1993, George lived in Boca Raton, Florida. In the sunshine state (it should be called the sunset state since that is the most popular time to dine, thus the early bird special) there were lots of ladies for my dad to escort. He enjoyed plenty of paramours but the endless, annoying demands of his last southern belle sent him back north.

George has been a weight lifter for many years. Once he moved he immediately joined my gym. The health club, personal trainers and members have become the nucleus of his world. There are no age, gender or racial boundaries. He has many "good friends," although he might not be able to remember their names, they certainly know he's George. As I make a slow incline into middle age, my claim to fame is being "George's daughter," and I can't imagine a better accomplishment.

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