Skipping

July 1951

When I came across this photo the other day, something told me this is how Dad and I looked at the time of a very special memory. 

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We lived a few blocks from downtown. I have a vivid, and very happy, memory of going to the barbershop with Dad. We held hands and skipped along the Courthouse's wide, slate sidewalks. We sang, "Hippity hop, hippity hop, off we go to the barbershop." 

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Dad probably wasn't this dressed up when we skipped along. I hope he wasn't skipping with his pipe in his mouth. 

This is such a strong memory for me that I've posted about it twice before. This makes three times. See here and here.