Today I recalled how once I explained the concept of a confound
to a family friend at a party held in honor of my sister (10 years
younger than me) and her husband to be. The original
question was something I don’t know, something
superficial yet intriguing at parties that often are. Not
really my activity. Sometimes I hope they might be, like
a gateway to myself, a hint of such a path— but not very often. Later
I remember him telling me how proud he was of me, that
I remembered something he often taught his students. That he’d hoped
he’d taught me.
I’m glad I could make my father proud of me before he died.
I’m glad I can remember it still.
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