My old man believed in calling ’em like he saw them, especially when it came to compliments. If we were on a street corner with him, waiting for the light to change, and an attractive woman happened to be standing there, he’d think nothing of telling her, “My sons and I can’t help but notice what a beautiful woman you are and thought you might like to know as much.”
The woman would smile, sometimes unnerved, not knowing if it was a come on or what. Sometimes, if she was an assured New Yorker, she’d wink at my brother and me. It wasn’t a pick-up line, the Old Man just believed in expressing himself. Take it or leave it, honey. The man had charm to burn and no lack of chutzpah.