Mar. 24th, 2006

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After the big crowd and one of the admirals had gone, some 20-30 of us transfered to a lovely Italian restaurant for dinner. There was a big U-shaped table set up in a private room, with all the chairs along the outside. Dad and I were along one side, next to his cousin Marinda and her daughter, only 14. E's a bit on the shy and geeky side, but I'm sufficiently quirky it seems, to entertain her.

Dinner was delightful, even with E's vegetarian horror over the veal in one of the courses.

Dad was on my left, and beyond him a handful of Uncle Graham's students. That particular cluster, in addition to being sailors, were also parents of high school and college age students. And so, at one point, the conversation fell to college admissions and SAT scores. Specific scores were, of course, mentioned (and none of them as high as my own - I am, of course, secure in my own genius.) Instead of joining in the one-upmanship and bragging, Dad, when he notices my attention has been grabbed, leans over to me and tells me he doesn't need to boast to be proud of me. That quiet comment was worth more than any hundred 'my honor student can beat up your honor student' boasts. I love my Dad.

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Misha Day

August 2024

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