Thinking about my dad, who died Thursday. Feel like I must have asked him to play catch with me 10,000 times before I was 10 years old. Though he'd likely point out that 10,000 is impossible, since there are fewer than 4000 days in 10 years, many of them in winter, etc., etc. Whatever, lots of times, and I can't remember him ever saying "No" or even "In a minute"—just dropped what he was doing and got his glove. ("Look, if the ball is above your waist, and you try to catch it with your palm up, there's no place in your glove for the ball to go. Fingers up on high ones!")
He was a physicist, and seems to have had a successful STEM career, but I'm pretty sure he was a better dad than scientist. Chuckling now to think how, in my early memories, he comes home from work wearing a thin dark tie with a white short-sleeved shirt accessorized by the pocket protector. Central casting! He played a lot of catch dressed like that, because he never said, "Let me change first." Full obit here.
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