This is not a post about Kenny. It’s a post about Alice, and her restaurant.
Not really.
***
My dad was not a funny man.
I take that back. He was not funny when he tried to be. He was not the guy at the party who would hold court, telling stories and jokes, everyone around him saying, “That Dave Day is one funny guy.”
It may sound strange, considering how kind he was, but he was funniest when he was insulting someone.
“That guy is about as useful as a second appendix.”
“Patrick, I like your friends, but that kid could ____ up a free meal.”
When I was a child, every word that came out of his mouth was pure gold, genius.
It’s not that my dad didn’t like music, but he was not musical. He did not play an instrument and singing next to him in church was not exactly a gift to the ears.
So, Kenny.
My dad sang the song like this:
You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille.
400 children and a crop in the fields.
400 children.
400.
Funniest damn thing I ever heard.
Patrick Day 
I love this and your stories! I read them in your voice around a fire circle in my head!
i’m glad i got to hear many of those in person. i hope you and yours are well.
Pat, my wife Patty and I went on perhaps a dozen misssion trips with your Dad. His stories weren’t always funny but he could tell a tale. I remember one story about trying to get out of the former Soviet Union and of course, his recipe for cooking a rare steak….put on the grill, drink 1/2 of a Blue Ribbon, flip it and drink the other half! One of the finest men I have ever known.
Bob Neill
Well, I cannot get that one out of my head now! If we ever are allowed back into the building, I think you should do that at Wednesday Evening Worship.