I always joke with them that they shouldn’t expect to find a boy as smart, strong, handsome, dashing, brilliant, athletic, intelligent, debonair, suave, or intellectual as their papa. It’s not fair to the kids who come along and try to make an impression on a not-so-impressionable girl.
Of course, my girls just roll their eyes at that.
Today, I’m writing about a near-miss in the dating game for one of my girls, at Dangled Carat, Hilary Grossman’s blog. I’m trying to be all vague about it, so don’t try and figure out who it is, but just … appreciate the message.
Years ago, the father of two former players was killed when his auto shop was robbed.
I saw police lights at the shop as we headed home from pizza night at the in-laws’. We hoped and prayed for the best. The next morning, before kickoff on the opening day of soccer season, my sister’s teary call confirmed my friend Greg had been the one killed.
A good man lost is always a tragedy.
When last I saw him, Greg made repairs to my car I couldn’t afford and bought me lunch out of the back of a hatchback. He said in Spanish to the awesome cook and entrepreneur who’d pulled into his shop lot that he’d get the bill for my lunch – whatever I wanted.