He meant to be kind. Dad always meant to be kind when he pointed out the obvious to me. It was an afternoon party, where we were expected to make polite conversation with our parents’ friends, which was what I was doing and, I thought, doing superbly.
I probably prefaced my remarks with “Did you know … ?” And when the adult I was talking to said, “No, I didn’t know,” I felt it was my duty to fill them in. My father waited for the right moment when he wouldn’t embarrass me and quietly said, “Not everyone is as interested in that as you are.” I can still hear his voice telling me this, but it doesn’t stop me telling you about it.
