The Usual Suspects

 

Or, Identikit?

Dorothy Dunnett's King Hereafter

 

Minotaur: Old Clay

 

Tinker

 

Paddle-Happy

 

Bright morning, light wind, high tide, and a harbor seal or two out in the harbor.  

Conversations with the Classics and Beyo

 

Debt? Thank You, Dad!

 

Debts: 50 years ago?

When I was a middle-schooler, my father, who seemed to think fantasy and sword&sorcery and anything not sports were silly, picked up three tickets for the local high school's production of The Hobbit. He didn't tell me it was a musical, which I would have recoiled from. Instead, it was all a surprise as he, my mother, and I waited for the play to begin. I had a fine time, and I treasure the memory. More than anything, I reflect on how my dad noticed something I loved, countered his bias against the subject matter, countered my bias against a musical, and was willing to be there too. 

He came to most of my swim meets as well, bless him. The one parent cheering for our high school team. My friends appreciated that too. We lost more than we won.

I wasn't the star athlete my father wanted--that was G my middle brother and H my oldest brother--but he found ways to connect that I did not appreciate in the hurly burly of my teenage years. I am sorry for my blindness now.