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Now this is the man who, when my Mother called and asked him to look something up on the computer, told her he had to put the phone down and move the lamp because the mouse was out of room on the table.
This is also the man who wanted to learn how to type, so B got him a typing program that he worked on every night. Dad would call me at work and say, "How many words can you type a minute? I'm up to eight." Do the math on that. That's maybe 64 characters, assuming all the words had about seven letters in them. I'm pretty sure the typing program starts you off a little slower.
So it was pretty classic when my brother saw Dad before the wedding furiously punching away on his phone. Dad would type, then look at Todd. Then type some more, then look at Todd. Finally he came up and asked Todd why he wasn't answering his phone. Todd told him he wasn't really answering anything that day, with the wedding and all. Dad told him to check his phone, which he did, and there Todd say, "arent you impressed that I can text?"
Classic Dad.
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