Aeneas carried his aged father on his back from the ruins of Troy and so do we all, whether we like it or not, perhaps even if we have never known them.
My father was a truck driver. That's where it all started, and academically I was a disaster at school. My cousin got his name on the honour board; I, at Melbourne High School, I carved mine on the desk.
I think if my father was a truck driver, I would have wanted to share the beauty that was there. He just happens to be Johnny Cash.
My father was a truck driver, made $50 a week. And the reason why I know that so vividly is my Mom used to just constantly give him a hard time for that.
I guess when you are left on your own, you find your true potential. I remember my father never came to our school even once.
I got my first trumpet when I was six years old, from Al Hirt. My father was playing in Al Hirt's band at that time.
If someone lies, well, you had a choice to trust that person or not. I think the way my father raised me, well, he trusted everybody. And that worked for him.
Heavenly Father has given a simple pattern for us to receive the Holy Ghost not once but continually in the tumult of our daily lives. The pattern is repeated in the sacramental prayer: We promise that we will always remember the Savior. We promise to take His name upon us. We promise to keep His commandments.
The patriarchy is alive and well in Egypt and the wider Arab world. Just because we got rid of the father of the nation in Egypt or Tunisia, Mubarak or Ben Ali, and in a number of other countries, does not mean that the father of the family does not still hold sway.
I grew up in East Germany, and we were short on technology. So my father was really proud to be the owner of a turntable.
When my father returned home on the twenty-first of August 1983, he had a speech prepared. Filipinos never got to hear it, because he was murdered right on the tarmac.
I am my father's only child. The world knows a two-dimensional Cary Grant. As charming a star and as remarkable a gentleman as he was, he was still a more thoughtful and loving father.
There is nothing about resilience that I can say that my father did not first utter silently in eighteen years of living inside a two-dimensional cutout of himself.
My father was an amateur oil painter, so some of his oil paintings were on our walls. There was one above the piano of a famous Ukrainian poet, Taras Shevchenko, playing an instrument known as a bandura. I remember that one kind of resonated with me; it was always central in the living room.
My Ukrainian grandmother would tell amazing stories. She lost her father, and as children, we would always listen to her stories.
My father put it right when he said: 'I don't get ulcers. I give ulcers.'
In the end, I still have the same hope as my father - that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the last word.
Several of my uncles are comedians. My father is a comedian; my grandfather was known for his jokes. It definitely runs in the family.
I've never been to a shrink. But my parents were very psychologically literate - my father had undergone Freudian analysis - and we often talked about other people in psychological terms, so I picked up a lot of that.
I grew up in New York City during the Depression. My earliest recollections were of my parents talking about what they would do if they didn't have the rent money. Luckily, we were never evicted. But my father was unemployed most of the time.
