He Was My Father remember the smell of the soap as he scrubbed his bands. Pungent, because this was for removing ground-in dirt and oil from beneath hardened fingernails and from calloused hands I can still see the darkness of the water in the hasin after he had cleaned his face He turn to p 5, and listen to the text. eating his dinner. toig me tales or ms own cnmgnooa and let little drops of moral tuition fall into my lap. A promise is a promise, he' d say. It was. He never broke one. He was my father. He drove a London taxi for 40 years. It was a job that paid a decent wage if a man was willing to work 12-hour days, six days a weekI remember the smell of the soap as he scrubbed his bands. Pungent, because this was for removing ground-in dirt and oil from beneath hardened fingernails and from calloused hands. I can still see the darkness of the water in the basin after he had cleaned his face. He always spoke to me as he washed before eating his dinner, told me tales of his own childhood and let little drops of moral tuition fall into my lap. “ A promise is a promise,” he’d say. It was. He never broke one . He was my father. He drove a London taxi for 40 years. It was a job that paid a decent wage if a man was willing to work 12-hour days, six days a week. He Was My Father Turn to p. 5, and listen to the text