In those days — the ones of my cherished youth — my cousin, Ronnie, a year older than I, worked for my daddy. Ronnie had cotton-colored hair and a face that, like mine, was smattered with freckles. He had what the lucky ones on Daddy’s side of the family inherit: a quick-thinking sense of humor that is succinct, clever and smart.
While I remember many good things about my sweet-spirited cousin in those days, the thing I remember most — and admire beyond explanation — is how he trailed around behind Daddy, hanging on to his every word and carefully processing his advice. Read More»
