The BDN Opinion section operates independently and does not set news policies or contribute to reporting or editing articles elsewhere in the newspaper or on bangordailynews.com Eddie Adelman is a writer who lives in Belfast. His book of columns and short essays is called “Don’t Get Me Started.
” With Father’s Day fast approaching, allow me to share this story with you. It was Father’s Day 1976. I was 26 years old.
And it was my first Father’s Day without a father. He passed away eight months earlier and it still weighed heavily on my mind. I was living in New York City and working as a taxicab driver.
As I drove my cab around Manhattan that day, I couldn’t get this one song out of my head. It’s by Judy Collins and called “My Father,” about an Ohio coal miner who promises to one day move his family to France. So, I was sitting at a light on Park Avenue when someone jumps into the back seat of my cab.
I turn around, and it’s none other than Judy Collins. Folks, you can’t make this stuff up. It’s just too unbelievable.
I told her I’d been thinking about her song, which brought a genuine smile to her face. The ride itself wasn’t all that eventful. Some chit-chat.
And I’m guessing I drooled a lot. After all, it was Judy Collins. But the story doesn’t end there.
A few hours later, I parked my cab, pulled out a sandwich and turned on my portable FM radio. And what song should come on but “My Father” by Judy Collins. I turned to the back seat and.