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.
