A sweet benefit of being slightly good at impersonations is the ability to conjure people, especially the departed, into the present moment.

One way I keep my second father, +Willie Mack Riche+ [aka Rich, Capt. Riche, Pop and Poppa — the father who majorly provided shelter/food/clothing and eight years of parochial primary education for me], present with me after sixteen long and quick years, is to impersonate his voice and his gestures; use his expressions, his words and pronunciations; or use the actual nicknames he conferred upon people — and also ones I imagine he’d assign to those whom he would’ve likely met and known had he lived longer.

I employ at least one of these precious nuggets of his essence at least once a day — so that even my “hound” dog Woody, who arrived nearly five years after my dad died, has a strong sense of his animated and playful personality.

Besides the love that we gave, I think we will all ultimately be remembered by our loved ones for our adorable, hilarious or maddening affectations, intonations, phrasing, expressions and idiosyncracies.

And that’s an ever-lasting gift for those left behind with Time.

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