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Catch Me If You Can

Frank Abagnale and Stan Redding • Rating: 10 / 10
Catch Me If You Can

The movie “Catch Me If You Can” is among those that I rewatch at least once a year. Naturally, I snatched the book when I saw it at a local bookstore.

I thought it would mostly match the movie and to be honest, I initially bought it just to have it on my shelf with no immediate intent to pick it up. However, the book turned out to be a fascinating read.

I’m not going to give any spoilers here, but if you loved the movie, you’ll love the book even more, because there are many more stories and details that movie couldn’t capture.

Even if you didn’t watch the movie, but reading a short book about a kid who fooled the airlines, banks, police and even FBI sounds fun, go grab a copy.

There aren’t many notes in this one, because I put down the phone and just enjoyed the book.

My notes

Mom listened, but she made no promises. And it soon became apparent to me, if not Dad, that she had no intention of reconciling. She enrolled in a Bronx dental college and started training to be a dental technician. Dad didn’t give up. He was over at our apartment at every opportunity, pleading, cajoling, entreating and flattering her. Sometimes he’d lose his temper. ‘Damn it, woman can’t you see I love you!’ he’d roar.

He did not seem to be bothered by his sudden drop in status and finances, but it bothered me. Not for myself, but for Dad. Hed been so high, a real wheeler-dealer, and now he was working for wages. I tried to pump him fu were always pulia about your friends, Da? 1 ted: q remember you were always pulling them out of tight spots. Didn’t any of them offer to help you?’ Dad just smiled wryly. You’ll learn, Frank, that when you’re up there’re hundreds of people who’ll claim you as a friend. When you’re down, you’re lucky if one of them will buy you a cup of coffee. If I had it to do over again, I’d select my friends more carefully. I do have a couple of good friends. They’re not wealthy, but one of them got me my job in the post office!’

He refused to dwell on his misfortunes or to discuss them at length, but it bugged me, espectally when I was with him in his car. It wasn’t as good as my Ford, which he’d sold for me and placed the money in an account in my name. His car was a battered old Chevy. ‘Doesn’t it bother you at all to drive this old car, Dad?’ I asked him one day. I mean, this is really a comedown from a Cadillac. Right?’ Dad laughed. That’s the wrong way to look at it, Frank. It’s not what a man has but what a man is that’s important. This car is fine for me. It gets me around. I know who I am and what I am, and that’s what counts, not what other people might think of me. I’m an honest man, I feel, and that’s more important to me than having a big car … As long as a man knows what he is and who he is, he’ll do all right.’