Did you survive? Was anyone hurt? What did you learn? This was what I usually heard when I presented my father with the news of some youthful calamity with me at its core.

Dad, as you might suspect, was long on forward-looking advice. He often said “don’t cry over spilt milk”, which is probably something his father said to him. He also didn’t cry about anything that I remember, until he got older and more reflective and was running out of years.

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