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My father could not, or would not, hold a job, because, rumor has it, he was too fond of booze. He abandoned me to the care of a step-father who seemed never too fond of me. I conceived of a desire to know my father better when I started college; where he lived was on the way, asitwere. This lasted for a number of years, then he ended up in jail for molesting children and ended up dying in a state hospital...
On the brighter side, I gave my younger son my step-dad's middle name, to show him (and perhaps myself) that I had grown to appreciate his input.
When I told him so, he said, "I always hated that name.", and we shared a good chuckle.
Life beats the alternative.
Try not to waste it, willravel!
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BE JUST AND FEAR NOT
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