My Father

Every time, when I see a Stutenkerl, I remember, that my father Fritz was a baker. He had several children. I was a product of a liaison and he put me into an orphanage immediately after birth. It took me 40 years to find him – but he was a humorous man and then inspired me in a positive, emotional way. Even more funny the biography of one of my friends, M. in Belgium: Suddenly (he was aged 40 too) a very close version of him knocked on his door: but his skin was black! M.’s father (white skin) had served as a doctor in Africa. After a short surprise they liked each other very well: they had the same job (doctors of course).

P.S.:
Feel free to add as a comment below a short fragment introducing YOUR father 🙂