Dad was a small town doctor, and a damned good one. He set broken bones, delivered healthy babies, stitched up gaping wounds, and removed his share of appendices and gall bladders. His patients loved and trusted Dr. Chesty. We all miss him terribly today.
After medical school and a brutal tour of duty with the U.S. Navy in WW II -- Dad survived the sinking of his destroyer, the Morrison -- Chesty (patients often referred to their primo medico as Dr. Charles) set up practice in Chillicothe, OH, our hometown, and served with great distinction.
Chesty (a nick-name he picked up in college, in admiration for his barrel chest), left us nearly twenty years ago. His memory is vital and strong and so-close, particularly around Father's Day each year. You would have loved this guy had you known him. He would have told you of some wild-eyed adventures, to be sure, including the story behind that remarkable mustache.
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