My dad, Bob Morrison–born September 30, 1918–was so funny. Even ones we’d heard a million times were still hilarious.
We still tell stories and jokes he related to us. My kids now tell jokes about the bishop and the actress (rated X so I can’t relay them here).
My mom, Joan, wrote poems about their love. Here’s one to cherish them both by. It was written on Tuesday, February 2, 1943 when Joan was 20 and Bob was 24, a few months before their wedding on June 19, 1943.
I remember the clear cold day we met
All ice and shining snow and sun dazzling but chill.
The trees black and lacy against the snow-hills
And the figures of people standing out clear on the landscape.
You, with your green changing eyes turning to look at me
As I stood on the hill . . .
War, even the war is beautiful, because it is so expected.
This world could not exist if there were not the undertone of tragedy.
The black shape is always moving
Across the face of the bright moon.
The songs that are trite to us now
May make us weep sometime because they bring back
Days that were when everything was yet to be done
And the world lay far below us—
Still to be ventured.
“I don’t want to walk without you, baby” . . .
“I left my heart at a stage-door canteen” . . .
“This is worth fighting for. . . .” 
We may even cry because we remember
That “Mr. Five by Five” made us smile once
And the “Strip Polka” will seem quaint and old-fashioned.
Maybe we’ll remember then
The day we first met
On a hill, while the world lay below us
Painted with black trees on snow
Traced with the steaming breath of cows
And black wisps of smoke from chimneys
And hills beyond and a white road—
And the world—
Still to be ventured.
Darling, if we come to nothing
Let’s not forget that.
Let’s not forget
We stood on top of the world once.
You still stand on the top of my world. Happy Birthday, Daddy!
 From Joan’s poetry notebook.
 These are all lines from popular songs of the time.
 A song from 1942 about a man “five feet tall and five feet wide.” Harry James and others made it popular.
Here’s one of the songs mentioned in Mom’s writing, sung by Bing Crosby. Once my parents were on a bus and my father, who had a lovely voice, crooned to my mother. The people behind them said he sounded just like der Bingle!
 A song by Johnny Mercer, including the immortal lines often intoned by my father: “‘Take it off, take it off,’ cries a voice from the rear.” The song was made popular by the Andrews Sisters in 1942.
 Joan married Bob on June 19, 1943.