“Lorraine almost passed out, but I knew enough to call the police. They got there about ten minutes later with an ambulance from St. Ambrose Hospital, and we almost didn’t have enough time to get the skates off. Two attendants came in with an old lady doctor, and we told them how he had been shoveling snow and had been out all day, and they just whisked him away on a stretcher like an old sack of potatoes. He was breathing just fine. Maybe a little fast, but it certainly didn’t look like he was ...going to die or anything like that. “Who are you?” this one snotty cop asked. “His children,” I said, and I thought Lorraine was going to collapse with fear. We both knew what her mother would do if she found out. I answered all the questions he asked, and when I didn’t know the answers, I made them up. “Your father’s age?” “Fifty-eight,” I said. “Wife?” “Deceased.” “Place of birth?” “Sorrento.” “You two kids don’t look Italian.” “Our mother was Yugoslavian.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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