Mr. Finnegan wants me to make a sculpture about my Dad. He wants me to tell about how he was a WWII Flying Ace, how he was the youngest colonel in the Army Air Corps and how he became a two star general. Every time he sees me he says--Have you made that sculpture yet about your Dad?

And I haven't done it because that's not the sculpture I would want to make. This is the one I would make. I would tell about him playing the ukulele after dinner in the kitchen while we did the dishes. About how he could dance with my mother and she could follow him without their touching.

I would tell about the time I bet him my whole bank account that I could beat him playing croquet and when he won he just made me promise never to bet again. I would tell about how he would come into my room at night and sing "My Name is Samuel Hall" over and over again until I learned the words right before I went to sleep.

I would tell about the time that he wore the blonde wig down to his sister's and told her he got a hair transplant, how he drew little pictures in the letters he sent me from the war and how older ladies always liked him because he was friendly and polite. That's the sculpture I would make.