resentfully behind to run the hotel.
But as I'm watching a kind of miracle happens. A great gift really.
I'm watching the television, watching Donald squire Julie into the dance hall, when the camera pans around the room and stops on two good-looking men in dark suits. They are really very handsome and I suddenly have this queer feeling all over me as the camera follows them dancing with their dates. A sort of tingling envelops me and then it's as if time has suddenly stopped and every neuron in my brain is firing simultaneously.
One of the men is a young Roy Scheider and the other is my father.
My father.
There he is in black and white, moving about from within this glowing screen and all of a sudden I'm crying, sobbing, bawling from astonishment, love, grief, happiness, shock. I've seen my father again and I've got it on tape, I've got it on tape! There he is, in a dance scene that only lasts less than a minute, but there he is. Thank you, God, for this strange electronic miracle, this beautiful resurrection from the grave.
For it was a miracle. When I told my mother what had happened she said that, yes she remembered he had had one brief part in a tv show in the '50's. This was the only time my father had ever been filmed and it was something more than coincidence--the odds of me watching,