True story. At the trust meeting, my daughter said: “She has no say.” I reached into my bag and…

in October, which felt appropriate somehow. He had always called on Sundays.

He was 71, had never married, had no children, and had spent his whole life building something careful and good out of nothing much at all.

He grew up the same way I did, in a rented house in a neighborhood that smelled like motor oil and cut grass, with parents who worked too continue reading …