Smile, Dad. You’re On The Picturephone
If only my dad were still alive
“Girls, we’re going to the World’s Fair,” my father’s announced, his grin a prototype for the original Smiley Face.
“In New York City,” my mother added, clasping her hands.
My sister shrugged. I groaned.
It was 1964, the summer of my sixteenth year. Going to the World’s Fair, across the…