Never met my dad. I think I've told you this story before. I saw him once in downtown Birmingham. My Aunt Jo pointed him out. I don't know whether or not he's alive.
About ten years ago I tracked him down and called him. He didn't seemed surprised. First time I ever spoke to him. We chatted for just a few minutes. Neither of us had too much to say. When the conversation was over he told me to be a good boy. I'm trying.
I was always thankful that they didn't name me after him. Waldo Sidney Elliott. Now I wish they had. Waldo or Sidney or even W.S. I like all of them.
Every therapist that I've ever seen has warned me that somewhere down in here I have issues about him. I'll bet I do. I'll bet I do.