I am lucky to have had only one father-in-law. He’s been called hardheaded, good-hearted, a good poker player, much worse and much better. I just call him Ted (Sanderson), and all I know is that he was there when his daughter and son-in-law needed someone.
He didn’t blink when I drove up in my 1958 convertible to pick up his daughter on our first date 47 years ago. Nor did he wince when I returned from Haight-Ashbury driving a 1955 Hudson Rambler (a classic junker) station wagon with a green tambourine hanging from the rear view mirror, and fishnet hanging inside the rear windows hiding a mattress in the back.
While dating his daughter, an expert skier, I found myself on the waters of Millerton or Bass Lake being pulled by his own homebuilt speedboat, the Purple People Eater. I survived several wipeouts while he patiently taught me how to waterski.
When I was discharged from the Army, he took us in while we found a place to live. Though sometimes it was reminiscent of the television comedy “All in the Family,” and Archie Bunker putting up with Meathead, he tolerated my 1960s philosophy...